


Wolf at the Door

by Bittersweet_in_Boston



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathroom Sex, Burn it all down y’all, But nods politely to canon on occasion, Corporate Finance, Except the magic power of dick, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hotel Sex, Hydra Advisors, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Modern Steve Rogers, Money corrupts, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, New York City, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shady big business stuff, Shield Corporation, Still the same idiots, ghosting, hostile takeover, mild homophobia, private equity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 61,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22486306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittersweet_in_Boston/pseuds/Bittersweet_in_Boston
Summary: Steve and Bucky were high school BFFs (and almost lovers) who lost touch and went their separate ways to take on the world. Steve follows a path through the military, business school, and management consulting that leads him, almost by chance, to become the Chief Strategy Officer of Shield Corporation, an old and once-venerable company that’s struggling in the cutthroat era of modern business. He’s tired of the corporate life and wants to leave Shield to do some real good in the world. But Steve can’t leave now, because more than twenty years later, Steve has run into Bucky again. Only this time, Bucky is a partner at Hydra Advisors, a ruthless private equity firm that’s just made a hostile takeover bid for Shield. If Hydra’s bid is successful, they will tear up Shield, lay off thousands, and sell it for component parts.Will Steve help Shield CEO Nick Fury fend off the hostile takeover bid and save the company? Will he convince Bucky to leave the dark side of private equity? Will Steve and Bucky have hot, angry sex in unlikely places around New York? Stay tuned...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 93
Kudos: 142





	1. Turn Me on to Phantoms

“Nick?”

Steve knocks on his boss’s open door holding today’s _Wall Street Journal_ with the first section folded to the back page. Yeah, sure, he has an electronic subscription too but in some ways he’s old-school and still likes the feel and smell of newsprint.

“Rogers.”

Nick Fury, CEO of Shield Corporation, is a tall, imposing man in his mid-fifties with an eyepatch and a predilection for wearing all black. He’s sitting at his desk with his laptop in front of him and motions Steve in with his head.

Steve wastes no time, strides into the office, and lays the newspaper down on Fury’s desk. Fury shakes his head.

“Yeah, I saw it online half an hour ago,” Fury sighs. Now it’s Steve’s turn to shake his head.

“I didn’t think they’d do it,” he says, loosening his tie and running his hand through his short dirty-blond hair. “Didn’t think they had the cash...or the balls.”

Fury looks at Steve sharply.

“Steve, it’s Alexander Fucking Pierce. Of course he’s got the balls.” Fury ignores his email inbox, which is rapidly filling up. He sighs.

“I’ve dealt with a lot of raiders and private equity assholes in my time,” he says, “and Pierce is the worst. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to close a deal.”

“Nothing?” blurts out Steve in a voice that’s trying hard not to be shocked. He’s spent almost 13 years in the corporate world but its venality still occasionally surprises him.

“Nothing overtly illegal,” says Fury. “Although there have always been rumors. You remember Hawley Enterprises?” Steve nods. “That deal got approved by the SEC with no big issues, but there was talk at the time of some shady practices, serious outside pressure on the Hawley management team and even bribery with the CFO. Nothing could ever be proved, of course.”

“Of course,” repeats Steve drily.

Suddenly the giant flat screen TV, on mute on the far wall, catches Fury’s eye and he grabs the remote and turns on the volume.

“...back to Squawk Box,” says Andrew Ross Sorkin. “I’m here with James Barnes, Senior Managing Director at Hydra Advisors, the private equity firm that made a hostile tender offer for Shield Corporation this morning. James, what’s the rationale for Hydra’s action?”

“Thanks for inviting me on the show, Andrew,” says Barnes smoothly. His longish dark hair and chiseled features are handsome, almost beautiful, and his neck extends gracefully out of his white dress shirt under a dark charcoal suit jacket that’s tailored within an inch of its life and discreetly whispers “bespoke Savile Row.” His grey-blue silk tie echoes his eye color. His entire appearance and demeanor scream “rich finance douchebro” but there’s a self-deprecating sparkle deep down in those grey-blue eyes that makes you wonder if this is entirely true.

“Our contention at Hydra Advisors is that Shield Corp is a dinosaur whose management doesn’t serve the needs of shareholders effectively,” Barnes continues, flashing a crooked smile. “We believe we can get better returns by restructuring its divisions, optimizing its manufacturing and supply chains, and bringing its operations into the 21st century...”

Steve and Fury watch the five-minute interview in silence. Barnes is articulate and photogenic, neatly parries Sorkin’s attempts to provoke, and projects an aura of sincere competence. As the interview ends and the program switches to business headlines, Fury mutes the TV again and turns to Steve.

“This is what we’re up against,” he starts to say, and then he catches sight of Steve’s face. Steve is still staring at the TV, eyes wide and haunted, mouth slightly open, a little paler than usual. His face is the very definition of “gobsmacked.”

“Rogers!” says Fury sharply. Steve startles, closes his mouth, and turns to his boss.

“Sorry, Nick,” he says guiltily, turning his palms up. “Saw a ghost.”

“Do you know that guy Barnes?” Fury demands, standing up and taking a step forward to look Steve in the eye. Fury may be an imposing figure, but Steve matches him in height and his bulk, the result of daily 6 AM visits to his local gym in Brooklyn, is equally impressive.

“Yeah,” says Steve, ruefully, shaking his head. “We were good friends in high school. We lost track after that, haven’t seen him in twenty years. Didn’t realize he’d ended up at Hydra.”

“Well, he did,” says Fury in a tightly controlled voice. “And if he and Pierce get their way, this company is toast.” He paces around his office for a minute, runs his hand over his bald head, and turns back to face Steve.

“Are you with me in this fight, Steve?” he says urgently. “I need to know you’re fully on my team and ready for battle. No divided loyalties.”

Steve nods his head and a deep line appears in his forehead as he frowns.

“Of course I’m with you, Nick,” he says, bringing his fists together for emphasis. “One hundred percent. I’m not gonna let someone I haven’t seen in twenty years bring down this company.”

His phone pings and he glances at it. “That’s Darcy with the latest market projections,” he says. “I’ll pick them up on my way to my meeting with Brock.” He looks out of Fury’s office to the empty desk across the hall where Fury’s chief of staff usually sits. “Where’s Nat?”

“Talking to Clint to finalize preparations for this afternoon’s emergency Board meeting,” says Fury with a sigh, resuming his pacing. “You and Brock’ll have those new numbers in your presentation?”

Steve nods. “Absolutely.”

He catches Fury by the shoulder as he paces by and looks him in the eye. “Nick,” he says, setting his jaw. “We’ve got this. We can win this fight. I’m with you all the way.”

Fury hesitates, then lets his breath out and says, “Thanks, Steve. Get me those new numbers as soon as you can, ok?” Steve drops his hand, grunts affirmatively, and strides out of the office exuding confidence.

*****

Back in his own office down the hall with the door shut, Steve drops the pose of confidence and sags mutely in his chair, his eyes focused on nothing in the middle distance. He’s asked Darcy, his senior strategy manager, to give him ten minutes alone before bringing him the new market projections. He needs the time to pull it together.

Not for the first time, he wonders how he got here, became the Chief Strategy Officer of a major corporation. It wasn’t his ambition in life to reach the C-suite - for as long as he can remember, he’s just wanted to do good and bring more justice into the world. He grew up with a single mom, a nurse, and she imprinted upon him early the importance of fairness and the need to stand up to bullies. He drops his head as he thinks of Sarah Rogers.

For some reason, he thought the military would be the best place to do good after high school. He was rejected from West Point for health reasons, so he went to Brooklyn College on a ROTC scholarship and graduated magna cum laude in political science and economics. He spent enough time in the Army to become a Captain, then left early and got into Columbia Business School, intending to graduate and go into non-profit or NGO management, help wounded vets or families in need.

But Sarah got sick while he was at Columbia and her insurance wouldn’t cover all the bills, so Steve needed money to take care of her. He took the highest paying job offer out of business school, at Deloitte Consulting, and quickly worked his way up to Senior Manager. A year later he came over to Shield Corp as Director of Strategy at the invitation of the former CSO, Maria Hill, who’d been impressed with a consulting project he’d run for the company. A year after that he’d been named CSO when Maria had left for a prime job at Stark Industries.

And then after years in remission, Sarah Rogers’ cancer returned with a vengeance and within three months she was gone. Her death broke something open inside Steve and he’s started wondering what the fuck he’s doing with his life. For the last six months he’s been seeing a therapist to deal with his grief and try to figure out some purpose for his existence on this planet. He’s fallen almost haphazardly into an incredible career but it’s a million miles away from the scrawny kid in ninth grade at Roosevelt High getting his lip busted standing up to a senior bullying a new student from Syria about her hijab. He’s been wondering for a while about leaving Shield and embarking on a new phase in his life.

But now comes news of this hostile takeover attempt. Steve can’t leave Nick and the rest of the management team during this time of crisis. And the truth is, despite what he said to Fury, he’s not entirely sure they can pull this off and win this fight. They have a strong plan for ensuring the future growth and financial stability of Shield to present to the Board, but Bucky and Hydra have offered a 20% premium to shareholders for their stock in the Hydra tender offer, and Steve knows that short-term greed usually wins out over long-term stability in these deals.

_Bucky._

Even thinking the name in his head sends a tremor through his gut. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, his best friend at Roosevelt High School in Brooklyn all those years ago. They’d both been punks together, with Bucky usually rescuing Steve from fights and helping to patch him up afterward. Bucky had never been the same crusader for justice as Steve had been back then; he was always more cynical about the ways of the world. But Steve had loved him as he’d loved no one else before or since, and had just assumed they’d always be friends.

It all came crashing down that summer after graduation. Steve and Bucky were hanging out in Steve’s apartment one night in Brooklyn, drinking their way through a six-pack Bucky had procured on the sly. (Sarah was working a late shift at the hospital.)

“Oh man, Buck, I can’t believe you’re leavin me for fuckin Princeton. Princeton!” Steve had moaned for the millionth time. “I always thought we’d go to school together.”

“Me too, Stevie,” said Bucky. “But that fuckin scholarship came through and I can do the rest with student loans and my old man threatened to kill me if I didn’t take the opportunity. And I won’t be that far away, ya know.”

“Far enough,” mumbled Steve. And then, half-drunk, he’d hurled his skinny body at Bucky and wrestled him to the floor. “This is what you get for leavin Brooklyn, ya punk!”

“Oh yeah, ya jerk?” Bucky had said when he got his breath back, splayed out on the rug. He’d used his larger size to flip them both so he was on top, and he’d ended up lying entirely on top of Steve, his face six inches from Steve’s. There were both breathing heavily and laughing like loons. Then Bucky’s face had gone serious, eyes wide, and he’d leaned forward and fastened his lips on Steve’s.

More than twenty years later, sitting in his office on Park Avenue, Steve can still feel that kiss on his mouth, can sense Bucky’s hardness against his thigh. He’s kissed people before and after, has had amazing sex with them, and yet nothing has ever come close to the feeling of completeness, of rightness, of that kiss and that moment.

And nothing has ever come close to the feeling of loss and hurt when Bucky pulled back from that kiss, a look of horror on his face, saying, “Oh fuck, I’m sorry Stevie, oh fuck...” and then jumping up, grabbing his shoes, and running out the door. Steve had called out, “Wait...Buck...” but it was too late. He was gone.

They’d seen each other once or twice more that summer before going off to college, but it was in public and Bucky had been much more formal, with a look of imploring panic in his eyes whenever Steve had caught his glance directly. And Steve had understood. Homophobia was still rampant in the late nineties and they both had their lives and futures to consider. But Steve has never forgotten those feelings and although he’s had serious relationships with both men and women since then, has never managed to replicate them.

_And then there was that time in Chicago..._

A tentative knock on the door, and Steve shakes his head and comes back to the present. He takes a deep breath and looks up. Darcy is standing outside his office holding her laptop, gesturing to ask him if she can come in. He plasters a smile on his face and beckons her into the office.

“So I got those new projections from Marketing,” Darcy starts as she bustles into the office. Then she stops abruptly as she sees Steve’s face. “Steve, are you OK?” Even with the plastered smile, they’ve been working together a long time - he brought her with him when he moved to Shield from Deloitte - and she can tell when something is wrong.

“Yeah, Darce, sorry, I was just...distracted,” Steve admits as she sits down. Darcy lays her hand on his arm.

“Hey Steve, it’s OK, we can totally beat this takeover,” she says, voice heavy with sincerity. “These new numbers are really positive and will help strengthen our case...”

“Yeah, Darce, I know we can do this,” Steve says, relieved that she thinks it’s just the takeover that’s preoccupying him right now. He hasn’t mentioned thoughts about changing his career to anyone at Shield and as for Bucky...

“So here are the new numbers for the East and Midwest divisions in the US and the new plants in Europe and Brazil...” says Darcy as she opens a complicated spreadsheet on her computer. And with a herculanean effort, Steve switches his brain into CSO Business Mode and they get to work on the afternoon’s Board presentation.

*****

Late that night. 12.23 AM.

Steve turns over in bed and sees the dials of his Apple Watch, glowing faintly on his nightstand attached to its charger. He’s been lying there for an hour and he can’t sleep, the wheels turning in his brain as he reviews the day. He’s tried a meditation, tried a soothing podcast to get to sleep but tonight nothing is working. He sighs, flips onto his back, and puts his arms behind his head.

The Board meeting earlier this afternoon wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either. Steve isn’t on the Board, and he had only been brought in for a couple of hours to present the market projections and outline management’s proposed strategy both for handling the takeover attempt and for moving the company back into better growth and profitability.

He’d known that things would be tough as soon as he walked into the conference room. The first things he’d seen were Fury standing almost statue-still in the back of the room and Natasha Romanov, Fury’s chief of staff, sitting in the corner near him, perfectly dressed, frown lines etched on her face.

Overall, he thinks as he lies in bed, his presentation went well. Many of the Board members had been supportive of his ideas and had responded well to the plan to take the proposal to the shareholders. Brock Rumlow, the Shield CFO, had questioned most of his numbers but he’d been prepared for that (thanks, Darcy and team!) and had answers for every challenge.

He wonders about Brock as he stretches an arm out to the side. Rumlow has always seemed like a loyal officer to Fury but lately Steve has had an uneasy feeling that he’s lost faith, both in the company’s strategy and in Fury’s leadership. It’s not that Rumlow comes right out and says it, but he questions everything these days, always from the standpoint of “due diligence” and the finance guy’s refuge of “making sure the numbers add up.” But occasionally the numbers Steve’s seen coming out of Brock’s finance group look funny to him. He makes a mental note to informally bring his concerns about Rumlow to Fury when the takeover situation plays itself out one way or another.

Steve’s active brain switches quickly, guiltily, to his thoughts on his own career. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about abandoning ship during this crisis, but the takeover has further knocked something loose in his head and heart, something he locked away when Sarah died right after he became CSO, and he can’t just ignore it. He can’t do this the rest of his life. He wants out of corporate life. He’s only forty and he wants something more meaningful, he wants to make a difference in the world, he wants a real relationship, he wants love, he wants...

_Bucky._

And there it is, the real reason Steve can’t sleep tonight. He can’t stop thinking about Bucky. Seeing him on TV has jolted him, has resurrected thoughts and feelings he believed were long dead. As he’d thought to himself earlier that day, he’s had serious relationships since then - he thinks briefly of Sharon, his last serious relationship, to whom he was considering proposing when she got a new job in DC. They’d tried to make the long distance thing work, but gave up last year. But he’s never felt for anyone else what he feels for Bucky.

He sighs as he thinks about what Nick said in the morning about divided loyalties. Steve meant it when he said he was with Fury all the way in fighting the takeover, and he wasn’t lying when he told Fury he didn’t realize that Bucky had ended up at Hydra, but that part about not seeing him in twenty years...well...

Steve finally brings his last mental barrier down and lets himself remember what happened in Chicago seven years ago.

_“C’mon, Rogers, let’s go!” Gabe claps him on the shoulder, a huge grin on his face. It’s about 10 PM. The project team has finished its project wrap-up celebration dinner at Gibson’s and they’re sitting at the bar of the Fairmont Millennium Park. A contingent of the younger staff are heading out to Smart Bar to keep the party going, and they want Steve to come along. He’s a brand new Senior Manager and still young enough not to look like the Cryptkeeper to the twenty-somethings._

_“Nah, you guys, I’ve gotta finish this proposal for Johnson Controls tomorrow, Erskine wants it before the weekend,” Steve says, shrugging and smiling apologetically._

_“Aww, c’mon Steve!” Darcy says, coming up to him. “Let’s party for Boeing tonight, you can deal with Johnson in the morning!” Steve grins at her. She’s one of his best consultants and has worked her ass off on the Boeing project, so she deserves to blow off some steam._

_Conveniently, Steve’s phone rings and he looks at it. “It’s Erskine. You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up with you soon.” The group heads off to grab cabs to the club, chattering happily. Steve waits a second, then answers the phone. It’s not Erskine, the senior partner he works with, but only that name would’ve gotten the kids off his back._

_“Hey, Ma,” he says quietly once the noise has tapered off. “Yeah, I’m in Chicago. Just finished a big project. You OK? You got late shift tonight?” They talk for a few minutes, then Steve says, “I gotta go, Ma, I got more work tonight. I know, I know, it’s bullshit, but it’s why they pay me the big bucks, haha. Love you.”_

_Still, as much as he has work to do, Steve decides to stay and have one more drink. He hasn’t drunk that much tonight and the bar has cleared out quite a bit, leaving a few quieter patrons and a cozier vibe. He wants to soak that in before he heads to his room and his laptop. He’s calling the bartender over to order that drink when the man comes up with a glass, puts it down in front of him, and says, “Blanton’s on the rocks.”_

_Steve is about to ask the bartender if he’s psychic when he jerks his head and says, “Courtesy of the gentleman over there.” Steve follows the gesture to see..._

_...James Buchanan Barnes sitting at the other corner of the bar. As his mouth falls open, Bucky picks up his own glass and points it toward Steve in a toast. Then he gets up and walks toward Steve, his eyes bright._

_At some point while Bucky is approaching him, Steve’s brain rewires and he remembers to close his mouth. Whether he’ll remember how to talk is another matter._

_“Steve Rogers,” Bucky says with a grin as he sits down next to him. They clink glasses. “Of all the business hotels in all the cities in North America, and he has to walk into mine.”_

_“Whaddya mean, Buck, this is my hotel, I’ve been staying here for weeks,” Steve shoots back. It’s been 15 years, but he falls into the banter with Bucky as easily as if they’d been hanging out yesterday._

_“Well, the McKinsey crew is here now, big boy, so now it’s ours,” says Bucky smoothly. “Just got a huge job with a private equity client.”_

_“Aww no, McKinsey, those clowns” retorts Steve. “Buncha conceited fuckers who think they’re the smartest people on earth.”_

_“That’s cause they are,” Bucky returns, smugly. “Anyway they got great networks and they can get me into private equity.”_

_“Really? Private equity, Buck?” Steve responds. “Buying companies and taking them apart and laying regular folks off so a few super-rich assholes can get even richer?”_

_“Oh my god.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Still the fuckin social justice warrior.”_

_This banter goes on for some time and they finish their drinks. They order a new round and move to a secluded booth in the corner, where the conversation gets more personal and flirtier._

_“You got jacked, Stevie boy,” says Bucky, moving closer and squeezing Steve’s bicep through his suit jacket. “When’d that happen?”_

_“College,” replies Steve, trying to keep his heart rate normal. “Hit a big growth spurt.”_

_“I’ll say,” says Bucky, looking him up and down and pressing his thigh against Steve’s. Steve feels a wave of heat travel from his gut up to his face._

_“You look great, Buck,” he says. “But then, you always did, even when we were teenage dirtbags.”_

_“I’m still that kid,” says Bucky lightly. “Just a teenage dirtbag in an Armani suit.”_

_“Well, Princeton and Wharton are really good at churning out dirtbags,” says Steve, trying to emulate Bucky’s lightness. Then there’s a pause. Steve takes a deep breath and addresses the elephant in the booth with them._

_“Hey Buck, what happened that night after graduation,” he says quietly._

_Steve senses rather than sees Bucky tense up, and his leg pulls away from Steve’s._

_“What are ya talkin bout, Stevie,” he says, his mouth drooping and a note of panic in his eyes. Steve stands firm._

_“C’mon, Buck, July 1999, my apartment, we kissed on my floor. And then you jumped up and ran off and basically never spoke to me again.”_

_Bucky hangs his head. “I’m sorry,” he says with his hair in his face._

_“Sorry you kissed me, or sorry you ran away?” There’s more anguish in that question than Steve had intended. Now that he’s broached the topic, he finds he can’t let it go, and all the emotions he’s had for the last 15 years are bubbling to the surface._

_Bucky looks up at Steve. “Both?” he says doubtfully, and he looks absolutely miserable. Steve’s heart overflows, and he reaches out and puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath and decides to be completely honest._

_“Damn, Buck,” he says. “I’m sorry you ran off, but I’ll never be sorry that you kissed me. I...” he gets choked up and pauses to get his voice back under control. “I’ve...I’ve missed that kiss for years.”_

_Bucky grabs Steve’s hand off his shoulder and squeezes it. His eyes have gone from miserable to lust-darkened in an instant. Without hesitation he grabs a couple twenties from his pocket, throws them on the table, and pushes Steve out of the booth and toward the elevator, never letting go of his hand. The elevator lobby is empty and Bucky leans in to bite Steve on his neck under the ear. Steve gasps._

_“Your room,” he hisses. “Now.” Steve’s breath catches and he wills the elevator to come faster._

_DING. They hurry into the elevator and as the door closes, Bucky pulls Steve to him and kisses him like he wants to devour him. And Steve is happy to be devoured. They barely stop kissing as the elevator reaches Steve’s floor and they almost run down the hall to his hotel room._

_Steve’s hand is shaking - with nerves or with impatience, he can’t tell - as he slides his room key into the lock. Once inside the room, Bucky slams Steve up against the wall and kisses him breathless. Bucky doesn’t necessarily look that big but it’s clear he’s built under that suit and it really does something to Steve to be manhandled that way._

_He lets Bucky take charge, and Bucky soon strips off both their jackets and shirts, gets his shoes and socks off, and orders Steve to do the same. He steps back to survey their upper bodies so close together. Steve is wearing an undershirt but Bucky isn’t, and Steve roams his eyes up and down Bucky’s muscled torso, which is perfect but for a jagged scar snaking down his left shoulder and bicep._

_Steve wants to know how and where he got that scar, but this is hardly the time. He wants to lean forward and lick it and is about to do so, when Bucky grabs the neck of his undershirt with both hands, pulls Steve to him and gives him the filthiest kiss of his life. Then he breaks the kiss and growls, “You’re wearing too many clothes.”_

_Bucky’s eyes gleam and the corner of his mouth turns up and without warning he rips Steve’s shirt in half down the front._

_Something like a combination of a shriek and a moan involuntarily escapes Steve’s lips and he feels his dick go fully erect. Bucky looks down and notices, leans his mouth over to Steve’s neck and says, “You like that, don’t you,” as he palms Steve’s cock through his pants._

_“Fuck yes, Buck,” groans Steve, panting. “Use me however you want.” Bucky detaches from Steve’s neck, pupils blown, and without preamble switches places with Steve so he’s flush against the wall, pushes Steve to his knees, and starts undoing his pants._

_“You’re gonna suck me off to get me ready, and then I’m gonna fuck you into next week,” he hisses._

_Steve sucks in his breath and pulls Bucky’s pants and boxer briefs down like he can’t wait to get his mouth on Bucky’s cock. Which he can’t. As Bucky’s dick comes into view he licks the head and tastes the bead of pre-cum that’s gathered there, then licks a stripe all the way from base to tip. Bucky moans and his head hits the wall behind him. He steps out of his clothes_

_“Yeah that’s right, Stevie, close that pretty mouth around my cock and suck me good,” he whispers. Steve had no idea Bucky was adept at dirty talk, but he (and his dick) are into it. After several minutes of enthusiastic sucking, Steve pulls back. Bucky hisses at the loss of contact, but Steve looks up at him and says in a low voice, panting, “Fuck me already, Buck.” He undoes his own belt buckle and starts pulling down pants and underwear together._

_Bucky pulls Steve to standing and presses his tongue between Steve’s lips, tasting his own juices in Steve’s mouth. He reaches down to take Steve’s pants and underwear all the way off and pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket on the floor. He extracts a condom and a packet of lube, holding them up in front of Steve’s face._

_“Ready?” he says. Steve nods, chest heaving, and he takes Steve’s face in his other hand and leads him to the king-size bed by the chin._

_“Kneel,” he says, and Steve groans and obeys, facing away from Bucky on all fours, legs spread open. He feels Bucky’s lube-covered fingers circling his hole for a minute or two before one of them enters him and he gasps._

_“More,” he says, pushing back, straining for deeper penetration. “More, dammit, Buck.” Bucky adds two fingers, and then three, all the while whispering a stream of profanity about Steve’s hot hole. After a few minutes he pulls them out and Steve almost cries with the loss, but then he hears the crinkle of a condom wrapper and the cool drip of more lube and..._

At this point in the memory, lying in his apartment immersed in what happened seven years ago, Steve realizes he is rock hard and reaches down between his legs.

_Bucky enters him slowly but once his dick opens Steve up, he slides all the way in almost at once and then stays there for a minute, his chest draped over Steve’s back. Every nerve ending in Steve’s body is tingling and he is savoring the feeling of fullness when Bucky bites him hard on the shoulder._

_“Gonna fuck you now, Stevie,” he murmurs, his hair soft on Steve’s neck._

_“Fuck yes,” Steve gasps, contracting around Bucky’s cock with the anticipation. Bucky holds his hipbones and rails into him hard and smooth, rolling over his prostate, and it’s heaven. Steve can feel his heat rising with every stroke._

_“Close,” he pants after a few minutes, and in response Bucky squeezes down hard on his right hip._

_“You’re gonna come on my cock, Stevie,” he growls, “and then I’m gonna come so hard in your hot, tight hole.” Steve moans._

_“But...” he starts to say, and Bucky cuts him off._

_“I said come, bitch,” he says in a low voice that nonetheless resonates around the room. At this, Steve dick twitches and he comes hard all over the sheets, white light shading out his vision in the corners of his eyes. Bucky follows him over the edge with a muffled shout thirty seconds later, and leans forward to drape himself over Steve’s back again._

Remembering this seven years later, Steve’s whole body stiffens and he comes with a gasp all over his stomach.

_They stay like this for a few minutes, savoring the waves of orgasm, Bucky’s breath hot on Steve’s neck. Then Bucky sits up and carefully pulls out. As he gets up to tie off the condom and throw it in the bathroom wastebasket, Steve melts down onto the bed and turns over on his back. When Bucky returns he slips into bed next to Steve, lying on his side to face him._

_Steve turns his head. Bucky has only gotten more beautiful as he’s gotten older. He was always the handsomest asshole around, even in those awkward adolescent years, but age has added new planes to his cheekbones and temples and his jawline is a fucking work of art. The post-coital flush on his cheeks just adds to the miracle._

_Steve turns toward him, involuntarily reaches out and strokes Bucky’s hair, then slides his hand down to cup that Greek statue-level jawline._

_“That was...” he starts. “You...I...we...” but the words don’t come and he stops. Bucky grins._

_“Yeah, I know,” he says, leaning into Steve’s hand. Cocky bastard. Bucky closes the few inches between them and presses his lips to Steve’s. He’s already given Steve the filthiest kiss of his life tonight, and now he’s giving him the sweetest. The warmth and promise of those lips suffuses through Steve’s body, adding to the afterglow. He feels like he’s floating in a warm sea. He could happily drown in this kiss._

_After a few minutes of kissing, they pull back and look at each other. Steve is overwhelmed by emotion and just barely keeps it together. His breathing picks up and he starts to sniffle. Bucky looks calmer but his eyes are shiny. He runs his fingers through Steve’s hair._

_“I should get going soon,” he says softly. “Big day tomorrow.”_

_“Don’t go, Buck,” Steve blurts out. “Stay with me tonight. Please. It’s been so long.” Despite his best efforts, tears start to leak out the corners of his eyes. Bucky smiles and gently caresses Steve’s neck._

_“Okay,” he says on a long exhale, and kisses Steve again._

_Suddenly Steve is exhausted and can barely prop his eyelids open. Everything has been so much today, and his body is just shutting down. Bucky notices._

_“Get some sleep, Stevie,” he says. “I’m gonna pee and I’ll be right back.” Steve nods dumbly against the pillow. His eyes close. He hears Bucky in the bathroom, and as he gets closer to sleep, he feels Bucky spoon behind him in the bed, warm and solid, pulling the sheets over both of them. His heart is full._

_“I love you, Buck,” he mumbles as he tips over the edge into unconsciousness. “I’ve always loved you.” He barely feels Bucky’s kiss on his shoulder._

_“Stevie,” Bucky whispers. “Stevie.” And then everything goes black._

_The next morning, Steve awakens at six out of a deep sleep. He’s alone in the hotel room and Bucky’s stuff is gone. The only sign that he was ever there is a note on the bedside table, written in haste on the back of a blank taxi receipt._

_I LOVE YOU TOO._

_\- B_

Steve lies in his bed in Brooklyn, breathing hard, tears falling onto his pillow, his come sticky and quickly drying all over his abs. He didn’t see Bucky in the hotel in Chicago later at breakfast. He hadn’t gotten Bucky’s number that night and Bucky has never been in touch since. Bucky has no social media accounts, not even a bare-bones LinkedIn profile, so Steve couldn’t even track him or keep in touch that way, and he didn’t want to be too much of a stalker. Bucky’s appearance on Squawk Box is the first time Steve’s seen him since that night.

That night (and the morning after) broke his heart and took him weeks...months...years to get over. He’s had other serious girlfriends and boyfriends before and since then, but something has always been missing. He’s reconciled himself to the idea that he may never fully get over Bucky and also that he’ll never get to be with Bucky. But he keeps that taxi receipt tucked in a hidden section of his wallet as a reminder. And maybe as a last hopeless hope.

But as he finally falls over the edge into sleep in his apartment in Brooklyn, Steve realizes that he needs to put all this history aside and stand with Nick against this takeover. Against Hydra. Against Bucky.


	2. No Matter How it Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he strides down the street he sees the warm lights of The National across Lexington. On impulse he walks past the subway entrance and crosses the street to enter the building. The restaurant portion of The National is full of late diners but there are only a few people at the bar at this hour. He sits down, orders a Blanton’s on the rocks, and gets it pretty quickly. He’s just taking his first few heavenly sips when his eyes slide sideways to see...
> 
> James Buchanan Barnes sitting at the other corner of the bar.

“Hey Steve,” says Darcy, knocking on his office door with one hand while holding her laptop in the other. Steve looks up from his own computer.

“Hey Darce,” says Steve, rubbing his eyes - man, spreadsheets really fuck with his vision - and looking up. “Ready for the meeting?” She nods. He pockets his phone, picks up his laptop, and follows her down the hall to the conference room.

As he walks to the conference room, Steve sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s been three days since the hostile takeover announcement and Bucky’s appearance on Squawk Box. Steve has been working crazy hours with Fury and Natasha since then to generate other options to counter the takeover offer, but they haven’t been able to come up with anything that Fury thinks the Board would accept.

And they’re running out of time - another emergency Board meeting has been scheduled for early next week. Fury managed to hold off those Board members who were eager to sell out to Hydra right away, to buy them time to present new scenarios that would be just as attractive, but he’s not sure he can do it again. They have a management committee meeting on Monday to prepare for the Board.

So Steve has spent every waking hour going over numbers and projections with Brock and Finance, joining conference calls with Nick to talk to banks about loans and financing, talking with Clint, the COO, about how to optimize their North American factories to boost the stock, even calling his ex, Sharon, to put out tentative feelers for a joint venture with her company that could boost their revenues. She’s promised to bring it up with her boss and get back to him as soon as possible.

Nothing has panned out as of yet, but in some ways Steve is just grateful he’s so busy. Since he allowed himself to remember that night in Chicago seven years ago, the floodgates have opened and he’s assailed by memories of Bucky every time he has five minutes free. His heart hurts all the time. It’s excruciating.

To assuage his own mind and take a brief break from all the options he’s been generating for Fury, Steve has asked his own strategy team to do some intelligence gathering about Hydra and its major players. If they can find out more about who they’re up against, he reasons, they have a better shot of beating them and coming out on top. He and Darcy are headed to this meeting right now.

Unfortunately, within five minutes Steve realizes how little his team has been able to find out. They have a few PowerPoint slides with some basic information gleaned from Hydra’s website and a handful of press releases, but even then there’s no firm financial information, or even total headcount. Their SEC filings list Alexander Pierce as Chairman and Erik Schmidt and Arnim Zola as senior managing directors, but there are no bios or photos. There’s no mention of James Barnes anywhere. It’s like he’s a ghost in his own firm.

Steve stands in the back of the room and walks around as Darcy gives the presentation. He finds it helps him think.

“Any other info on Pierce, beyond the Hydra website?” he interjects when Darcy’s paused after a few slides. She moves to the next slide, which is just a newspaper photo with a caption.

“This is pretty much all we could find,” she says. “It’s a photo from last year’s Spring Gala for City Ballet at Lincoln Center.” The photo shows an older man in a tuxedo with greying blond hair, flanked by Bill deBlasio and Jamie Dimon. The other two men are giving big public persona smiles to the camera, while Pierce’s expression is hooded and reticent.

“So we still don’t know much about Pierce except that he might like the ballet,” says Steve, and the team around the table chuckles in an effort to break the tension. Steve takes a deep breath and dares to bring up his biggest question.

“Anything about James Barnes?” he asks in a softer tone. “Nothing about him on the website.” Darcy swivels her head to look at him sharply. She’s too smart, Darcy. Has known him too long. But she lets it go and switches to the next slide.

“OK, Barnes,” she says. “We know he went to Princeton on scholarship. Recruited by Goldman, worked there for three years, then went to Wharton for his MBA. Went to McKinsey, worked his way up to Senior Manager.” Steve nods. He knows this already. Darcy continues.

“Left McKinsey for Linden Capital a year later,” she says. “Was there for two years, then went to Hydra, where he’s been for four years now. He was promoted to Managing Director a year ago, after spending a year in Russia brokering a major deal for Rosneft.”

Steve’s eyebrows rise at this. _Russia, huh, Buck? The pinnacle of corrupt autocracy and evil state-run businesses?_

“Any details on that deal?” asks Steve. “People involved? What did they buy?”

“Decent-sized oil and natural gas firm in Azerbaijan,” says Darcy. “Fully integrated into Rosneft. There was a photo in _Kommersant_.” She brings up a slide with a picture of a several men. Rosneft CEO Sechin in the middle, flanked by the Azeri oil chairman and Russian Minister of Energy Novak, all smiling big for the camera. Off to the left, James Barnes, a slight smile turning up his mouth but face otherwise almost blank. Steve just manages not to exhale out loud at the sight of him.

“Any social media?” Steve says, bringing his hands together. “Likes? Dislikes? Charity stuff? Articles or white papers he’s written?”

“None,” says Darcy. “He had Facebook and Twitter accounts until about seven years ago, then not only deactivated them but had his histories entirely erased. There aren’t even snapshots available through time capsules.”

_Seven years ago._

Steve’s heart twists in his chest. The image of Bucky lying facing him on that king-size hotel bed, running his fingers through Steve’s hair, comes directly into his mind and he involuntarily closes his eyes for a moment.

“Steve?” says Darcy, worried. “You OK?” Steve’s eyes pop open and he sees seven people looking nervously at him. Time to pull it together.

“Yeah, sorry, guys, just wishing we had more information about any of this,” he says, pasting on a smile and reassuming his executive demeanor. “Did MDM dig up anything useful?”

“They’re working on it, responds Darcy, “but I talked to John earlier this morning and he said all his usual sources are completely tight-lipped about Hydra, so he’s moved on to some other folks who might know a little more.”

She leans over her laptop, hooked up to the projector, and switches PowerPoint decks.

“But John did send me a brief analysis of Hydra’s targets and what’s happened to them over the past ten years,” she continues. She pulls up the Executive Summary slide.

Within thirty seconds a pall settles over the room. It’s clear even from this summary slide that Hydra is ruthless with its acquisitions - divisions broken up, production moved overseas, mass layoffs, and a focus on maximizing profits. Then most of the pieces sold to the highest bidder. Everyone’s thinking about what would happen to Shield after a Hydra takeover. Beyond Shield’s corporate staff in New York, the company employs 50,000 people in the US and Canada, and they’ve resisted sending these jobs and factories to emerging countries even though it would lower costs substantially. If Hydra wins, all these workers are on the line.

This time Steve does exhale out loud.

“Well,” he says. “Okay. Let’s keep digging, and Darcy, tell John to try those other sources. Anything we find out about these guys could help. Thanks, everyone, for your hard work. Let’s touch base again at five today.” The team stands up and starts to file out until it’s just Steve and Darcy and...

“Hey, Steve?” Steve looks up from where he’s been staring at the conference table. Jasper Sitwell is standing in front of him. Quiet guy, works on Brock’s Finance team but currently acting as a liaison with Steve’s group. Steve doesn’t know him well but he gives out a weird vibe and Steve isn’t sure he trusts him. He puts his prejudices aside.

“Hey, Jasper, what’s up?” Steve smiles at him. Sitwell fidgets and scratches his head.

“I wasn’t sure about bringing it up in the meeting, but Brock told me this morning that he heard from someone that this Barnes guy was...well...a little funny.” Steve frowns.

“In what way?” he asks sharply. He’s not sure he likes where this is going. Sitwell gets even more nervous.

“Well, ah, rumor has it that he...goes both ways. Likes girls and dudes. He was seen in the VIP area at Le Bain a couple months ago with Candice Swanepoel and then the next week at the same place with Perfume Genius.”

Behind Sitwell, Darcy rolls her eyes heavenward. Steve purses his lips together. “Did Brock tell you who he heard this from? And why it’s relevant?” he says.

“J-just some gossip he heard at a finance executive meetup,” Sitwell stutters out. A bead of sweat crawls down his temple. “He...he...thought it might be useful to have in the takeover.” Darcy mimes yawning and makes a jerkoff motion. Steve controls his expression and his temper with a mighty effort.

“Well, thanks, Jasper,” he says. “I appreciate it, though honestly I don’t think shareholders care if you’re gay, straight, bi, or ace as long as you can offer them a huge payout.”

Sitwell nods, stammers out, “OK, see you later” and bolts out the door, almost running into Natasha. He apologizes without looking at her, then disappears out of sight.

Steve looks at Natasha, looking immaculate as always in a black sleeveless sheath dress, gold earrings, and blood red nails. “Did you hear that?” he says. She nods.

“Bigoted little fucker,” interjects Darcy. “And he’s been acting all weird in our working sessions, asking a lot of nitpicky questions about our strategy. I saw him in Brock’s office the other night showing him something on his laptop. It almost looked like a report-out.”

“Well, he does report to Brock so that’s not too strange...” starts Steve but Natasha interrupts.

“Yeah, but Rumlow’s been acting weird the last few days too,” she says. “The day the tender offer was announced, he made a big show of being loyal to Nick at the Board meeting and fighting it, but last night he asked for an informal meeting and told Nick he’d run the numbers again and could see the business case for the takeover.”

Steve scoffs.

“We can all see the business case for the takeover,” he says drily. “It nets the shareholders a shitload of money.”

“Duh,” says Darcy, rolling her eyes again. “But that is weird.” Natasha crosses her arms.

“We may need to...keep an eye on Rumlow and his team,” she says. She’s petite and red-headed and barely reaches Steve’s shoulder, even in four-inch stilettos, but even so Steve is fairly sure she could kick his ass - and Rumlow’s - from here to Westchester.

“I’ll watch Sitwell,” pipes up Darcy, “even though he’s a creepy little rat who’s always staring at my tits.”

“Thanks, Darce,” says Steve. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” She gathers her things and exits the room. He turns to Nat.

“Do you need me?” he says. “Does Nick?”

“Yeah,” Nat nods. “A new development. He wants to tell you himself.” Steve picks up his laptop and follows her down the hall to the CEO suite.

Fury is pacing around his office like a caged animal. Steve can almost see the wheels turning in his head. He looks up as Steve enters.

“Rogers,” he says. “Good.” He beckons Steve over to his desk and turns his monitor toward him, where an Outlook message with a calendar invite is open.

“What is it?” asks Steve, leaning over to squint at the monitor.

“It’s your old pal Barnes,” answers Fury with barely suppressed anger in his voice. “He’s requesting a videoconference with me in thirty minutes. And he wants you there, too.”

*****

Fury and Steve sit in the CEO conference room as their video call goes through. Steve has put on his suit jacket and though he rarely wears ties, he’s pulled one out of his office closet and put it on for the meeting. He hates ties because they always feel a bit too tight around his neck, but in this situation the discomfort is, ironically, somewhat comforting. Fury is wearing his usual head to toe black. Natasha sits in the corner offscreen, Louboutins crossed in front of her, projecting a quiet aura of competence.

A minute later Bucky appears on the giant monitor and says, “James Barnes here.” He’s alone in an aggressively neutral room with no decor in it at all, just a bare beige wall behind him. There’s no laptop on the plain desk in front of him. He’s dressed in one of his dark grey bespoke suits, but today’s shirt is light blue and the tie is raspberry.

Steve always thinks he’s prepared for this, to see Bucky’s surpassing gorgeousness, but it’s never true. Seeing Bucky looking perfect makes him feel awkward, ungainly, and unfashionable in his head-to-toe Brooks Brothers outfit. Nevertheless his heart starts beating rapidly. He swallows discreetly as Fury gets things going.

“Barnes,” he says abruptly. “Nick Fury here with Steve Rogers. What’s the point of this call, Barnes?”

If Bucky is taken aback by Fury’s bluntness, he doesn’t show it.

“I wanted to see if we could work all this out right now,” he says smoothly, picking up the single sheet of paper off the table in front of him. “To find out if you’d see clear to convincing the Shield Board to accept the offer right now, and then take it to the shareholders as a done deal.”

Against his better judgment, Steve is impressed. If nothing else, it takes balls to suggest such a thing straight to Fury’s face. He slides his gaze over to Nick.

Fury’s eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch. Anyone who didn’t know him well would never believe that he’s furious right now.

“And why would I do that?” he says, an edge to his voice.

“We’ve run all the numbers and all the scenarios,” responds Bucky, “and this is the best offer the shareholders are going to get. There’s no other action you can take that gives them this kind of share premium. It’s best for everyone.”

“Not everyone.” The words are out of Steve’s mouth before he can stop them. Bucky glances at Steve, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Everyone that counts, Rogers,” he says, provocative, eyes gleaming. Steve goes red as he thinks of all the workers in the Shield plants. Is it possible the person he loves most in the world (though, he admits to himself, most likely loves him hopelessly) is this much of an asshole? He’s about to retort when Fury quietly lays a hand on his leg under the conference table.

“We’re planning to take the offer to a full shareholder vote, Barnes,” he says with a steady voice. “And we have every confidence that they’ll find our alternative option satisfactory. There’s no deal right now. You wasted your time with this call.”

Bucky’s mouth turns down at this response, and he opens his mouth to come back with an angry retort. Steve notices that he looks pale, even paler than usual, and there are dark circles under his eyes. His imagination tosses up several reasons for Bucky’s pallor, all of them bad. He forces his mind back to the subject at hand.

After a few seconds Bucky recovers his poise and smiles at Fury.

“Not a waste of time at all, Fury,” he says. “I appreciate your willingness to talk and let me know where things stand. And the information you gave me was...” his eyes slide to Steve, “...valuable. Very valuable.”

Steve flushes again and berates himself internally for his remark. He’s never really gotten the hang of these executive dick-measuring contests, about who can care the least and show the least amount of emotion. He’s never really wanted to get the hang of them. He always cares, cares too much, really. But he should have kept his mouth shut.

Fury, unwilling to cede anything to Bucky, says, “Well, Barnes. Until later.” And he shuts off the video call. The monitor goes blank.

“Nick,” Steve says immediately, turning to him. “I’m sorry...”

“No, no, Steve, it was fine,” says Fury in response. “Actually, it was better than fine. It reminded me of our people and that we need to do well by them as well as by the shareholders. I wanted you here for that reminder, not just because Barnes requested it.”

Steve is about to say something when Natasha pipes up from her corner with just one word.

“Pierce,” she says.

“Yep,” says Fury. When he sees Steve’s confused look, he says, “That call had Pierce’s fingerprints all over it. I’ll bet you anything he ordered Barnes to make the overture to see if he could get the deal done faster and without the hassle of a shareholder vote. And to see if he could get under our skin.” Nat nods.

“Huh,” says Steve. “Shady.” But as he says it he’s marginally relieved. If Pierce is behind this, it means that Bucky might not be completely lost to the dark side of private equity assholery. He knows it’s a forlorn hope, but it’s almost the only hope he has these days.

Fury shrugs his shoulders and gets up from the table. Steve and Nat stand up as well.

“Just business,” Fury says. “I might have done the same thing if I were in Pierce’s shoes, with such a huge deal on the table.”

“Huh,” Steve says again. He manages to keep his face expressionless, although incredulity and disappointment thread through his mind. He looks at Natasha and she sees right through him. She raises her eyebrows as if to say, _What did you expect, Rogers?_

As they leave the conference room and get back to work, a voice (his mom? God? His own drama queen subconscious?) echoes in his head, saying _YOU’VE GOT TO GET OUT, STEVIE._ He shakes it off and goes to his office. But he doesn’t forget it. Nor does he forget the disappointment in Bucky’s unguarded face and how unwell he looked.

*****

Later that night Steve is on his way to the subway to head home to Brooklyn. He’s got more work to do - more reports and analysis to read from Darcy and his team - but he’s underslept and he’d like to remedy that. When he doesn’t get enough sleep he makes errors in judgment, his temper comes to the surface more easily. Like earlier with Sitwell. And Bucky.

_Bucky._

Just thinking about him makes Steve’s heart hurt. It feels like this new Bucky is a completely different person from the Bucky that Steve knew in high school...and even from Cocky McKinsey Asshole Bucky that Steve met in the bar in Chicago seven years ago. The Bucky that Steve saw on the videoconference monitor this afternoon was smooth, polished, confident, effortlessly stylish, but there was nothing behind his eyes. Like he was dead inside.

The one time he’d looked even remotely alive was when he’d gotten mad at Fury’s refusal. Steve holds onto that. If Bucky can still get pissed off about something there’s at least some spark of humanity left in him.

At least that’s what Steve tells himself as he walks down 50th Street toward Lexington Avenue and the subway. He knows he’s probably grasping at straws but he needs to hold onto something given how fucking bleak his life looks right now.

As he strides down the street he sees the warm lights of The National across Lexington. On impulse he walks past the subway entrance and crosses the street to enter the building. The restaurant portion of The National is full of late diners but there are only a few people at the bar at this hour. He sits down, orders a Blanton’s on the rocks, and gets it pretty quickly. He’s just taking his first few heavenly sips when his eyes slide sideways to see...

James Buchanan Barnes sitting at the other corner of the bar.

Steve feels like he’s been punched in the gut and his blood pounds in his ears. His anger surges up ( _of all the bars in the city I have to walk into the one with this fucken guy_ ) but it’s equally matched with déjà vu ( _this can’t be a coincidence, what the hell_ ) and memories of that night years ago in Chicago ( _oh god he’s still so beautiful his body draped over my back biting my shoulder oh god oh god_ ).

After what seems like an eternity but is actually only about twenty seconds, righteous anger wins out. Steve knocks back his drink, leaves a couple of twenties for the bartender, and gets up to gather his laptop bag and leave. He glances at Bucky, who shrugs and smirks and tries to play it cool. Somehow this only enflames Steve further and prods him into doing something incredibly foolish. Instead of heading out he makes the impetuous decision to walk over and confront Bucky.

“What are you doing,” Steve hisses as he approaches, getting a little closer to Bucky’s face than he intended to. Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“Having a drink,” he says sarcastically. “Because, you know, this is a bar.”

“Yeah, you know what I meant,” growls Steve. “What the hell are you doing with Hydra and this fucken takeover.” Bucky looks uncomfortable, panicked even.

“We can’t talk about this,” he says sullenly. “This is breaking, like, 12 different SEC regulations.”

A wave of rage passes through Steve but he manages to stay relatively calm.

“Fuck the SEC,” he says, and lays his hand on Bucky’s arm. “What the hell, Buck.” All the loneliness and frustration of the last seven years - hell, of the last twenty-two years - come pouring out in those four words. Steve chokes up.

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to get pissed. “Don’t call me that!” he hisses. “And don’t touch me.” He jerks his arm away and runs his hand through his hair. “I gotta go to the men’s room.” He gets up quickly and heads toward the back of the bar.

But something’s taken hold of Steve and he won’t just let it go - won’t just let Bucky go. He follows Bucky to the bathroom and barges inside with him. Bucky’s eyes widen as he sees Steve enter and quick as a wink he shuts himself in the nearest stall. Happily there’s no one else in the men’s room with them. Steve goes up to the stall door and slaps his hand forcefully against it.

“Fucken A, Stevie, what the fuck!” yells Bucky from inside. Steve smiles grimly. He can still get a reaction - and a nickname - out of Bucky, so he’s not yet a total lost cause. Acting out is already paying real dividends.

“You’re not running away from me again,” Steve says, calmly but with force. “So get out here so we can talk.”

“OK, Jesus fuck,” grumbles Bucky. “But give me a sec, I really do need to take a piss.” He does so and a minute later comes sullenly out of the stall and heads to the sink. The harsh lighting in the bathroom accentuates his pallor and under-eye circles as he washes his hands and splashes water on his face.

“Are you on drugs?” Steve says bluntly. He needs to know if his earlier wild speculations have any foundation in reality. Bucky barks out a laugh.

“Nothing stronger than coffee and scotch, Mom,” he says sarcastically. Steve looks doubtfully at him.

“You’re so pale...” he starts.

“Yeah, I work 16-hour days and most weekends, Steve, the sun is practically like a fucken rumor at this point,” interrupts Bucky, and dries his face and hands with paper towels.

Steve’s heart melts. He works a lot - you don’t get to be a CSO without putting in the time - but he tries to take some breaks and have a life outside the office. He puts down his briefcase and stands in front of Bucky, arms at his sides, affect completely open. He has to tell Bucky how he feels, now, or something deep inside tells him that he’ll lose him forever.

“I’ve missed you so much, Buck,” he says simply. Bucky’s lips tighten, his eyes widen again, and his guard goes up.

“Aww hell no, Steve, you can’t play this card,” he says, panic threading through his voice. “This won’t make me change my mind about the takeover deal...”

“Fuck the takeover deal,” says Steve impatiently, his voice breaking. “I don’t give a shit about business right now, Buck. Shield and Hydra can go fuck themselves for ten minutes, I want to talk about us. You and me.”

Bucky’s eyes are still wide with panic, but now it’s a different sort of panic. He puts up his hand as if to ward something off.

“There is no ‘us,’ Steve,” he says, frustrated. “There’s never been an ‘us.’”

“Oh yes there has,” insists Steve, confident. He’s on familiar ground now. Arguing with Bucky is as natural as the sun coming up in the morning. “It was always you and me, until you ran away to college. And we could’ve started something real seven years ago and you know it.”

“I couldn’t get entangled,” whines Bucky but it’s a weak protest. “I was so determined to get into private equity...and I was too busy...I couldn’t get involved with someone...private equity is so conservative...they’d never understand...”

“Couldn’t get involved with someone, or were afraid to?” says Steve gently. “You didn’t even let us keep in touch. You ran away and cut off all communication.” He tries not to sound too bitter, although he still feels that bitterness and anger course through him.

“I was afraid...I didn’t want...” Bucky starts but tails off. “Oh fuck,” he says.

He slumps against the wall and exhales upward, blowing his hair out of his eyes. Then he looks down and runs a hand through his hair. His gaze slowly scans up over Steve from feet to head. Some of his bravado from the videoconference returns and his eyes sparkle a bit in appreciation.

“You look good, Stevie. Really good,” he says, taking a step closer. He’s only an inch or two shorter than Steve so he’s more or less looking him straight in the eye. “Even in your basic-ass Brooks Brothers.”

“You didn’t call my ass basic back in Chicago,” says Steve drily. He’s still incredibly annoyed with Bucky, frustrated that he’s a coward and he’s shying away from the difficult but vital subject of their relationship. But being close to him, even just for a few minutes in a smallish men’s restroom, is going to his head along with the bourbon. They stare at each other almost hungrily.

A guy walks into the bathroom at this point, looks at Steve and Bucky with questioning eyes, but then heads into a stall. They split apart for a minute, Steve staring at the wall and Bucky looking into the mirror at nothing. For all their efforts to tone down the emotion and act casual, though, the man flushes, exits the stall, washes his hands, and gets the hell out as soon as humanly possible.

As soon as the stranger leaves, Bucky barks out a laugh, looking almost animated. “Well, that wasn’t awkward or anything,” he says, “Poor bastard.”

Steve looks at his face and has a sudden vision of a relaxed, happy Bucky, laughing by his side as they hike through the Green Mountains or sail across blue Caribbean waters, holding his hand, kissing him. The vision makes him catch his breath, and he can feel himself turning pink.

Bucky is looking at him and his eyes gleam as he sees Steve flush.

“Whatch’ya thinkin about, Stevie,” he says, shifting closer and studying him, his searching glance scanning Steve up and down, his smile going wicked. Steve has only had one drink but he feels intoxicated, drunk on Bucky’s gaze. It’s heady to see the object of so many of his thoughts assessing him like he’s the prime tenderloin in the butcher’s window.

He wonders if he should say something sarcastic or obnoxious or provocative but in the end, he’s Steve Rogers, Mister Sincere, so he takes a chance and just tells the truth.

“You,” murmurs Steve, “it’s always you.”

He holds his breath, wondering if he’s just scared Bucky away. But Bucky’s pupils dilate and he says, “Stevie.” He moves forward and threads the fingers of one hand through Steve’s hair on the back of his head. In response to Bucky’s touch Steve shivers and involuntarily groans. Bucky smiles crookedly and leans in.

His lips on Steve’s are warm and so, so soft. The kiss is sweet at first but quickly turns urgent and when Bucky licks Steve’s bottom lip he moans and opens his mouth. As they make out, Bucky gently herds Steve back into a stall and locks the door.

Things only get more urgent from there. They are locked in an embrace, like they can’t get close enough. Bucky runs his hands up and down the back of Steve’s suit jacket and Steve has Bucky by the back of the neck with one hand and at the waist with the other. He runs that hand under Bucky’s jacket and claws at his back through his ridiculous bespoke shirt. Bucky grunts and sticks his tongue further into Steve’s mouth.

Steve is half-afraid someone else will walk into the men’s room and figure out what’s going on, but the public part of it and the danger of being caught thrill through him and his dick gets harder in his suit pants. He sticks one muscular thigh between Bucky’s legs and gets the satisfaction of feeling his hardness and hearing him moan against Steve’s mouth.

“You like that, don’t you,” rumbles Steve, moving his hand down to Bucky’s belt. He undoes it dextrously and reaches down his pants and under his boxer briefs to run his fingers over Bucky’s erection and down to his balls. Then he feels a thrill of satisfaction as Bucky gasps and his abs clench. As he starts to jerk Bucky off, he slides his mouth over to his ear and bites his earlobe.

“You like it when I stroke your big hard cock, don’t you,” whispers Steve, licking the inside of Bucky’s ear. Bucky moans and nods.

“I love it,” Bucky whispers back. “Please...”

“Please what?” says Steve, biting the skin on Bucky’s neck below the ear.

“Please make me come,” whispers Bucky, his head tilted back against the bathroom wall.

“You want that? You want me to stroke you until you come all over your fancy London shirt and suit?” hisses Steve against Bucky’s throat. He’s not usually into this kind of dirty talk, but his anger toward Bucky and something about how he’s begging, opening himself to Steve, are really fueling his mouth right now. He jacks Bucky off for a few minutes, whispering nasty things in his ear, until he finally growls, “Come for me.”

And almost immediately Bucky complies with a grunt, shooting jizz all over his immaculate blue shirt and leaning back against the wall. The picture is breathtaking and Steve’s rock-hard prick throbs in frustration. He starts to undo his own belt to do something about it when Bucky looks down and then looks at Steve, his eyes still blissed out, and puts his hand over Steve’s.

“Uh uh,” he says, his smile crooked. “This is my job.” Then he turns them both so he can sit on the john and pulls down Steve’s pants and boxers. At this height he can easily lean over and take Steve’s dick into his mouth.

Steve’s breath catches and he says in a small voice, “Oh God.” Bucky’s lips smile around his dick and he licks around Steve’s glans and over his opening to taste the drops of pre-cum. He holds the root of Steve’s dick and slides his lips halfway down the shaft for a minute or two, then pulls back looks up at Steve, his eyes sparkling.

“You ready?” Bucky says in a wicked tone, and when Steve, breathless, nods yes, he takes Steve’s full length into his mouth and down his throat.

At this, Steve involuntarily squawks out loud. The noise echoes around the stall and reminds him that they’re in a public restroom, that someone could come in at any moment, but he’s way past caring at this point. As Bucky deep throats him, his vision goes grey at the sides and the warmth pools in his gut and...

“Gonna come, Buck,” he rasps out, and Bucky only sucks more enthusiastically. Steve comes hard in Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky swallows it all, licking his lips afterward. He swirls his tongue around Steve’s slit to get all the remaining jizz, making Steve writhe with overstimulation. But he’s not complaining.

Bucky stands up and gives him a filthy openmouthed kiss so Steve can taste himself on Bucky’s lips. They kiss for a few more minutes, and then Bucky pulls back.

“Gotta get goin, Stevie,” he says softly. Steve nods, though he’s reluctant to let him go. They do up their pants and Bucky buttons his jacket over his ruined shirt. For an instant Steve is creepily tempted to ask Bucky for that shirt (as a love token? As a souvenir?) but restrains himself. He feels blissful and his heart is full. He doesn’t really want to come down off his sex cloud. Maybe he can get Bucky’s cell number and...

But Bucky abruptly unlocks the stall door and as they come out into the bathroom, he turns and says with a cocky, mischievous look, “Ya know, Stevie, just ‘cause you got me off in a men’s room doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop goin after Shield.”

And instantly the sex cloud dissipates and Steve is deposited back into reality where the person he loves best in the world is also a heartless private equity jackhole who’s trying to destroy the company he helps lead. It hits him like a bucket of ice water. No matter how gorgeous he is, no matter how hot the sex is, no matter how much Steve loves him, he’s still the enemy. He glares at Bucky.

“Fuck you, Barnes,” he growls. “And fuck your shitty private equity friends. You won’t get away with it.”

And he picks up his coat and briefcase from the bathroom floor and stalks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think there are a lot of meetings at the top level of companies, ding ding ding, you are right! C-suite members like Steve and Fury sit in a lot of meetings even when a hostile external organization isn’t trying to take over their company. 
> 
> The SEC is the Securities and Exchange Commission, a government agency charged with protecting investors from fraud, regulating capital markets, and investigating corporate wrongdoing. It requires publicly held companies (like Shield) to file regular financial reports, certified by independent accounting firms (like Deloitte and PwC). Even private companies like Hydra are required to submit certain paperwork to the agency. 
> 
> Jamie Dimon is CEO of JP Morgan Chase, a large bank (and an actual major New York City Ballet donor). Bill deBlasio is mayor of New York.
> 
> MDM is a made-up name for a third-party consulting firm that researches competitors for corporate clients. There are a number of firms that offer these services, and they are often more successful at obtaining this kind of information than their clients would be because of their third-party status. 
> 
> Google tells me Le Bain is an exclusive private club in New York.


	3. It’s the Only Way You’ll Know I’m Telling the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But somehow as Steve approaches the subway his feet propel him past the entrance to the intersection and across the street and into the bar. His heart is racing and his brain is churning with conflicting thoughts. Who knows, he might be there, it’s possible...what a dickhead, I can’t even deal with him...he’s so amazing, I miss him so much...
> 
> He sits down at the bar and orders a neat bourbon and casually looks around. There are several people at the other end of the bar but none of them are Bucky. Steve is simultaneously incredibly relieved and incredibly disappointed. And annoyed at himself for being disappointed. He reminds himself that Bucky is The Enemy, a soulless moneygrubber, and a total bastard to boot. The bartender brings him his drink a couple minutes later and he takes a sip. 
> 
> “Hey Stevie,” says a soft voice behind his left elbow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief references to homophobia and past homophobic violence.

“Sam!” Steve stands up from his table to greet the man coming toward him.

“Hey man,” says Sam, grabbing Steve in an exuberant hug. “It’s been too long.”

“I know,” Steve says apologetically as they sit across from each other at the cozy corner table indoors at Vinegar Hill House. “Thanks for making it work on a weekend.”

It’s eleven o’clock on the Sunday after Steve’s bathroom encounter with Bucky, and the Brooklyn restaurant is busy but as it’s a beautiful September morning, many people have opted to sit outside so the room isn’t as noisy as it could be. Steve’s gotten there ahead and already ordered them a couple of brunch cocktails and some bread and butter.

Sam grins and lifts his hands off the table.

“I know better than to bug the great man during the week,” he says, grinning, and Steve grins back.

“Fuck off with that ‘great man’ shit, Wilson,” he says, rolling his eyes. “God, you’re a pain in my ass.”

“I’m not the only pain in your ass right now,” responds Sam, raising his eyebrows. “If all the business news I’m reading is true.” Steve sighs.

“Yeah, it’s probably true,” he says, frowning. But then he catches Sam’s eye, grins again, and says, “But fuck it, let’s talk about something else. How are you?”

Sam Wilson is an old Army buddy of Steve’s - well, not strictly Army, he was an Air Force lieutenant whom Steve met as part of an inter-armed forces task force a year or two before he was promoted to Captain. They dealt with some tough problems and some tough senior officers, became fast friends, and have kept in touch ever since, even though they’ve taken very different paths.

“Can’t complain, Rogers, can’t complain,” says Sam, rocking back in his chair. He chuckles. “Actually I can complain, about shitty buildings and lack of funding and neverending bureaucracy, but that’s not why we’re here.”

After serving on the task force, Sam rejoined his unit and was sent to Iraq. On a reconnaissance mission, he and his wingman and best friend Riley were shot down over Fallujah; he survived, Riley didn’t. After he recovered, Sam left active duty and and got his masters in counseling, specializing in helping vets with PTSD. He took over running the Brooklyn VA six or seven years ago. Steve volunteers there when he can but lately of course he’s been a little...preoccupied.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s always the same, isn’t it,” he says, voice edged with sarcasm. “Holding things together with spit and duct tape to take care of vets, but these Hydra assholes probably spend more on their dry cleaning bills than your yearly budget.”

“But I shouldn’t talk about that,” Steve adds hastily. “Secret big business stuff from the great Chief Strategy Officer Steve Rogers, very hush hush.”

His words come out more bitterly than he meant and he takes a big swig of his rye and grapefruit bitters. Sam stares at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Dude, you OK?” Sam asks, crooking an eyebrow. “I mean, I know your company is going through a lot and that’s all stressful, but...” He stops and thinks about what to say next. He settles for asking “You OK?” again.

Steve lets his breath out loudly and runs his fingers through his hair. He hesitates, looks around the restaurant, and then appears to make up his mind.

“Sam,” he says slowly. “I’m...I’m kinda done with this big corporate thing.”

“Oh?” Sam says carefully, sipping his amaro and tonic. He’s a trained therapist, he knows when to talk and when to listen.

“Yeah,” says Steve, warming to his subject. “I mean, it’s interesting work and you’d think I’d be thrilled to reach the C-suite and walk the corridors of power, all that shit,” he says. “But I always just wanted to help people, do what’s right, make the world a better place, ya know?”

Sam nods. “Yeah, I know,” he says.

“Now I’m trying to save this company from a bunch of evil rich guys who’d happily fire 50,000 people and send their jobs halfway around the world so they can buy another fuckin yacht or whatever,” continues Steve. “And saving this company is the right thing to do, but it’s not exactly what I had in mind all those years ago.”

He looks at Sam pointedly. “I mean, it’s not helping people the way you’re helping people.”

“Mmm,” says Sam noncommittally and takes another sip of his drink. The server comes over and they order their food.

“It’s...I just...” Steve starts after she leaves. “It’s not just now with this takeover bid. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, ever since my mom died.” He looks intently at Sam and lays his hands face down on the table.

“My heart’s just not in it anymore, Sam,” he says, rueful. “I want to do something useful and fulfilling...and Shield deserves someone in my position who’s fully invested. But I can’t just leave them in the lurch right now.” Steve looks at the ceiling and then again at Sam, who’s staring at him sympathetically. Then he comes back to full awareness and smiles.

“Ah shit, Sam,” he says, grabbing his glass. “This was supposed to be a nice social brunch, not a fuckin therapy session. I’m sorry.” Steve turns pink, grabs some bread and butter, and stuffs it in his mouth.

“No kidding, Steve, I usually charge top dollar for my therapy sessions,” says Sam, rolling his eyes taking some bread and butter in his turn. “But seriously, man, I’m sorry. It sounds like you’re in a tough situation, but it’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Whaddya mean, nothing to feel guilty about?” says Steve once she’s gone. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

“You’re not quitting your job right now, right? You’re going to work every day and doing what’s required of you, right?” counters Sam, picking up his fork and waving it at Steve.

“Right,” says Steve, nodding his head.

“Then you’re not letting anyone down,” says Sam, taking a piece of bread in his other hand.

“But seriously, though,” he says thoughtfully. “After all this takeover shit is done one way or another, you should do some real thinking about what’s next, figure out what you want.” He points the fork at Steve again.

“I’d say you could come work for me,” Sam says, smiling mischievously, “but I’m not sure I can deal with having such a major fuckup as an employee.” He pops the bread in his mouth.

Steve laughs out loud.

“It’d be a huge black mark on the VA,” he says drily, “especially when there are so many better former captains out there.”

“There really aren’t, Steve,” Sam says, serious this time. He puts down the fork and looks at him searchingly for a minute before saying, “Hey man, not to pry, but you seeing anyone? You and Sharon broke it off a while back. Anyone new in your life? Sometimes it helps to have a partner to bounce stuff off of, keep things in perspective.”

Steve hesitates for a fraction of a second. The image of looking down at Bucky deep throating his cock in the men’s room the other night flashes immediate and clear into his mind. His heart skips a beat but he manages to keep his cool.

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “Nah. Too busy. Too much of a mess. And who wants to deal with all my nonsense anyway.”

Sam looks at him dubiously, clearly wondering whether to pursue this topic.

“Well,” Sam says finally. “Think about it. It’s not a bad idea. And by the way,” he continues, a gleam in his eye. “I can think of plenty of people, chicks *and* dudes, who’d happily put up with ‘all your nonsense,’ Mr. Rogers.” And he waves his hand at Steve while staring him up and down provocatively.

Steve goes red to the roots of his hair. He’s wearing a button down with tiny blue flowers, long sleeves rolled up to the elbow showing off an enviable pair of forearms. He’s wearing khakis and blue suede oxfords and his navy sport coat is hanging over the chair. He’s overdressed for brunch, but he’s going into the office after this and he’s never quite adapted to the casual Fridays and weekends culture in corporate America. (Blame the military.)

He knows he cleans up OK but he’s never thought of himself as a catch - there’s a big part of him that’s still fifteen and used to being overlooked as a scrawny troublemaker. And there’s a big part of him that can’t get over...

_Bucky._

Another crystal clear image appears unbidden in his mind, an image of him talking dirty, attacking Bucky’s neck with his mouth, urgently jerking him off in a bathroom stall...

“Haha, Sam, whatever, it’s fine...” he says, trying to get him to change the subject.

“Seriously, though, Steve,” interrupts Sam. “I know some really great people, some of them also vets, if you’re interested in getting out there...”

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve interrupts him in turn. “Let me get through this current crisis before you start acting as my own personal OKCupid, alright?” Sam puts his hands up in defense.

“OK, OK, Cap, whatever you say,” he says. The server comes over with their food and Steve could not be more grateful for the diversion. Sam has stopped grilling him about his love life and is now waxing rhapsodic about his meal.

“Mmm, shrimp and grits, mm mm mmm,” Sam says, picking up his fork again with a smile. “It ain’t South Carolina, but these northerners at Vinegar Hill do a passable imitation.” His accent gets stronger and broader. Steve grins.

“You and your fuckin shrimp and grits,” he says, spearing a piece of his omelette.

“Best food in the world,” says Sam firmly, starting to tuck in. As they eat, he turns the conversation to sports and they bemoan the twin disasters of the early-season Giants and the late-season Mets. Steve laughs easily and often. He knows he has to go into the office after this, and that low-level anxiety simmers under the surface, even after his brunch cocktail. But if he can’t forget own entirely fucked up life, he can put it aside for a couple of hours and enjoy a meal with his friend. Not for the first time, he’s mightily thankful to have Sam in his life. 

*****

“Hey Rogers,” says a voice behind him.

It’s eight o’clock that night. Steve’s leaving his office and turns to see Clint Barton limping down the hall from Fury’s suite. Clint’s the COO of Shield Corp. He’s almost as tall as Steve, tousled dirty blond hair, dancing blue eyes. He’s incredibly capable at his job running Shield’s operations but the joke is that he’s a disaster in his non-work life, constantly getting injured on vacation or even just out and about in New York.

His current limp stems from a badly sprained ankle, and he’s wearing an air cast, the bottom of his pant leg rolled up over it. Nat tells Steve he hurt himself when he tripped down the stairs at the Grand Central subway stop after a weekend upstate.

Nat and Clint are a couple, but they keep it very professional around the office out of necessity and Steve believes he’s one of a handful of Shield employees who know they’re together. They live in Brooklyn not too far from Steve and the three of them get together for dinner and brunch fairly regularly. Steve doesn’t socialize with most of his colleagues but Nat and Clint are Good People and he enjoys their company.

Steve grins.

“Clint,” he says, waiting for Barton to catch up. “How are you? How’s the ankle?”

“Ehh,” says Clint, adjusting one of his hearing aids. “Taking longer to heal than I wanted.”

“Sorry,” signs Steve. Clint signs “Thanks” back at him quickly.

“Nick still here?” says Steve as they walk slowly down the empty hall.

“Yeah,” sighs Clint. “They’re gettin ready for the management committee meeting tomorrow. You all set for that? Got the latest agenda? They just changed it an hour ago.”

“Yep,” says Steve. “My team’s been working all afternoon.” He sent his team home around six so they could have Sunday evening at home but stayed himself to get some stuff done to prep for his presentation. Clint nods. They approach the entrance to the elevator lobby.

“Didja hear the big shareholder forum’s been set,” says Clint. Steve pulls up short and looks at him, eyebrows raised.

“No,” he responds. “They were waffling between this Friday and mid-next week last I heard.”

“Fury bought us a few extra days. It’s a week from Wednesday. At Pier Sixty,” says Clint, wincing as he comes down weirdly on his cast. “Notice goes out to all the shareholders tomorrow morning and full staff tomorrow afternoon.”

“Well, there you go,” says Steve, because he’s not sure what else to say. Clint fidgets and says, “Weird, huh?”

“Yep,” says Steve. “That’s...one word for it.” There’s an awkward pause.

“Well, I’ll let you take off, gonna wait for Nat” says Clint. They clap each other on the back and Steve heads down to the street and the subway.

*****

On his way down 50th Street to the subway home, Steve thinks about the news. He knew the shareholder meeting and vote was in the cards, but now that it’s been scheduled, it’s really real. All this is really happening. In ten days, they’ll find out who the shareholders think should own and run Shield. The idea that Hydra could win this makes his stomach twist with anxiety.

But, oddly, his other dominant feeling right now is relief. All this will be resolved in ten days, and he’ll be free to get on with his life, one way or another. He lets out a big sigh as his heart leaps a little bit...and then feels guilty for even thinking such disloyal thoughts. He needs to be here and stay focused for Nick. And Nat. And Clint. And all the Shield workers.

As he nears the corner of 50th and Lex, he sees the familiar lights of The National across the street, and his mind immediately calls up images of the other night.

_Bucky looking up at him in the dim light of the stall as he licks the underside of Steve’s dick and swirls his tongue around the rim before flicking it against the slit..._

Steve’s stomach clenches again, but this time it’s with a mix of anger and lust. Bucky, he reminds himself, is a selfish, arrogant asshole. He shouldn’t get distracted by Bucky and his magic tongue. He shouldn’t stop at this bar and have a drink, he should really head home and have an early night, get some sleep, get ready for tomorrow’s big meeting. He shouldn’t stop at this bar on the off chance that Bucky might be there and he’d get the chance to see him, even if he’s furious with him.

But somehow as Steve approaches the subway his feet propel him past the entrance to the intersection and across the street and into the bar. His heart is racing and his brain is churning with conflicting thoughts. _Who knows, he might be there, it’s possible...what a dickhead, I can’t even deal with him...he’s so amazing, I miss him so much..._

He sits down at the bar and orders a neat bourbon and casually looks around. There are several people at the other end of the bar but none of them are Bucky. Steve is simultaneously incredibly relieved and incredibly disappointed. And annoyed at himself for being disappointed. He reminds himself that Bucky is The Enemy, a soulless moneygrubber, and a total bastard to boot. The bartender brings him his drink a couple minutes later and he takes a sip.

“Hey Stevie,” says a soft voice behind his left elbow. Steve startles and remembers himself just enough to put his glass down before he turns sharply in the direction of the voice and sees...

_Bucky._

Steve gasps inaudibly (he thinks) but Bucky’s mouth crooks up a little at the ends as he hears it and slides onto the barstool next to him, dropping his briefcase to the floor. Steve pulls himself together and takes Bucky in. He still looks pale and tired, but his eyes are a little less vacant than they were a few days ago. He’s wearing a burgundy cashmere polo sweater, a contrasting tweed jacket, slim black trousers, and dark red loafers. He looks like he could have just walked out of an ad for Tom Ford’s business casual collection, except for the dark eye circles.

“Buck,” says Steve abruptly, his mind reeling with a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. “I...I didn’t know you’d be here. I’ll head out.” He makes a motion as if to stand up when Bucky puts his hand on his arm.

“No, please, Steve. Stay,” he says, quiet but urgent, and Steve looks at him again. His expression is nothing but sincere. “I’d love to talk to you for a few minutes. Please.”

Steve pauses, then shrugs and relents. He’s open to hearing what Bucky has to say - maybe - but he’s not going to be the one to initiate anything. His heart is beating wildly and he wishes he could calm it down. Bucky orders a matching bourbon to Steve’s and waits until it arrives to say anything further. He looks a little nervous.

“I just wanted to apologize for the other night,” says Bucky. “The way things ended. I was a total shithead. It wasn’t cool.” Steve raises his eyebrows.

“That’s an understatement,” he says drily, taking a slug of his drink. “It was really fucking awful, Buck.”

“I know,” says Bucky, looking uncomfortable. He too knocks back a healthy swallow of bourbon. “I’m so sorry, Steve, I didn’t mean to make it personal. I mean, I didn’t mean to bring the business part into the personal part.” His eyes float around the bar nervously and he takes another drink. Steve tries not to roll his eyes.

“But you did,” he says in a low but angry voice. “You did, and it fucken hurt, Buck. Made it all feel cheap.” Bucky gulps a little at this.

“I know, I know,” he says, looking miserable. “It was really bad. I’m a total prick.” He looks around nervously. “Hey, can we get out of here,” he says. “I want to talk to you, but not in such a public place.”

“Where d’you want to go, the bathroom?” answers Steve sarcastically. He’s not usually like this, but he’s still pissed at Bucky and all the bitterness and frustration in all the other parts of his life are getting directed at this beautiful, maddening person sitting next to him.

Bucky flinches slightly. “Huh, ouch. I totally deserved that,” he says quietly. He pauses for a moment, then looks at Steve. “Would you, uh, would you consider coming back to my place? It’s...it’s in Tribeca, not that far, especially with no traffic.”

Steve looks at him, dumbfounded. “Your place??” he hisses. “That’s rich. You must think I’m the easiest, dumbest son-of-a-bitch in the world. Holy shit.”

He stops for a second. “Which in some ways I am, given everything that’s happened,” he says, with his typical self-deprecating honesty. Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s arm and stares directly in his face.

“I’m not having sex with you tonight, Buck,” he says, quiet but firm. Bucky nods, eager to assuage.

“No, that’s...that’s not what I...I wasn’t thinking...” he starts. He gets himself together and continues. “I just want to talk...catch up with you...find out how you’re doing...tell you what’s going on with me...no sex, nothing about this takeover deal.” He looks around and puts his hand over Steve’s on his arm.

“I just want to talk,” he pleads. Bucky’s eyes look suspiciously shiny, and Steve is dumbfounded. He’s never seen Bucky cry, ever, and this entire speech sounds like a sincere request to reconnect. Or maybe a cry for help?

“This isn’t just a ploy to get secrets out of me to win the deal?” Steve says involuntarily. He wants to believe Bucky but his recent behavior still smarts.

“No, fuck the deal, that’s not why...I don’t even...” Bucky says urgently and gulps. “Please, Steve. Please.”

Steve looks at him, takes a deep breath, and says, “OK.” He’s probably making a big mistake, but he wants to be the bigger person and err on the side of magnanimity.

Bucky sags with relief and pulls out his phone.

“My car will be here in five minutes,” he says, punching at the screen. “It’s just down the street.” He puts his phone away and finishes his drink. Steve does the same. They settle the check, pick up their bags, and walk toward the door.

“So your car’s coming, huh?” Steve jibes, deciding that Bucky needs some serious shit for being such a pretentious fuck. “Is it your own personal limo or do you have some super-fancy deal with Uber?”

Bucky grins and elbows Steve in the arm. “Fuck you, Rogers,” he says. “Like you don’t have a car too, Mr. Fancy C-Suite Exec.”

“I don’t,” answers Steve smugly. “I’m a Brooklyn guy and I take the subway like a normal person, unlike some punks who’ve forgotten their roots.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Ah, don’t gimme that ‘I’m a regular guy’ shit, Stevie.” They step out of the bar onto the sidewalk where a gleaming black Mercedes waits on the street. Bucky looks around carefully, then shepherds Steve into the back seat and follows him in.

Steve looks around the car as it pulls smoothly away from the curb and heads quickly and quietly south on Lex. There’s a shadowy driver in front, but they’re separated from him (her?) by a partition. The tinted windows look like they’re the darkest allowed by New York State. He decides Bucky needs some more shit about this, partly to take him down a notch, partly because it makes his heart lighter to argue with him like in the old days.

“Very swank, Barnes,” he says sarcastically. “When you make the big time do you graduate to a stretch limo? A full motorcade?”

“Ha fucken ha, very funny, Stevie,” Bucky says, his mouth curling up at the sides, teeth showing, eyes crinkling. He suddenly looks more alive, more _human_ , than he has since that night seven years ago when they looked at each other and really saw each other after the ridiculously hot hotel sex. Steve’s heart skips a beat. He tries to keep it in check.

Bucky continues. “Though, seriously, we’re required to take these cars as senior Hydra staff,” he says, forehead crinkling. “Pierce is really uptight about security.”

Steve’s heart drops a little at the mention of Hydra.

“That’s awesome, James Bond,” he says, trying to keep things light. “But aren’t we breaking like 12 SEC regulations even talking about your vaunted employer right now?”

Bucky grins again. “Touché,” he says, pushing Steve in the shoulder. “And I did promise we wouldn’t talk about the deal.” He looks out the window as they turn west onto 21st. “We should be there in five minutes.”

*****

Bucky’s apartment is in a brand new condo building on Leonard Street in Tribeca. As they get out of the limo and walk up to the door, Steve eyes the facade with suspicion. It looks exactly like the streamlined building a pretentious rich asshole would choose because it telegraphs wealth so effectively.

His fears are confirmed when they arrive in Bucky’s place on the top floor. High ceilings, huge windows, everything open concept, austere finishes and furnishings and art in black, white, and every shade of grey in between. There’s no other color at all, not even a throw pillow on the severe black leather couch, and Steve shivers as he looks around the living room/dining room/kitchen.

Bucky is throwing his stuff down on a chair but he notices Steve’s reaction.

“You OK?” he says, motioning for Steve to sit.

“Yeah, fine, it’s just...” Steve starts, and then hesitates. “Do you actually like this whole... aesthetic, Buck?” His gesture takes in the whole cold, unwelcoming space.

Bucky shrugs. “I had someone decorate it for me. It’s easy to take care of and it looks good. Good neighborhood. Good investment.” Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m at work most of the time, so this is really just somewhere to sleep,” Bucky continues. He goes over to the angular, grey sideboard and pours them both a drink.

Steve shakes his head. He’s having trouble getting it through his head how different he and Bucky are now, how their values - and their tastes - are different. It’s dumbfounding and a little depressing if he’s honest.

“Work and sleep, huh?” Steve says as Bucky brings him his drink. “Thanks,” he says as Bucky sits near him, but not too close, on the sofa. “Cheers.” They clink glasses and take a sip.

“Yep,” says Bucky, maybe a bit ruefully.

“No social life?” Steve persists.

“Not really,” Bucky says, shrugging.

Steve suddenly remembers the intel report he got from that rat Jasper Sitwell the other day and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “Not even Candice Swanepoel and Perfume Genius?”

Instantly he’s sorry he said it, but Bucky just laughs and says, “Nah, they were just in the VIP section at Le Bain the nights I was there so we had drinks together. They were pretty nice. I was actually at the club to meet business prospects at Pierce’s request. The firm has a platinum membership.”

_Of course it does,_ thinks Steve but says nothing. There’s a brief silence.

“Hey, how’d you know that?” says Bucky, curious but not angry. “There weren’t any photos on social media.”

Steve pauses, guilty, but then decides to come clean. “Rumor from a guy on our Finance team. We were trying to find out what we could about your...group.”

“And you didn’t find much,” Bucky says. It is not a question. “Pierce is a fanatic about privacy and he’s drilled it into the rest of us.” He sips his bourbon. Then he says, “Finance guy, huh?” Steve nods. “There’s something strange about your CFO, Steve. Rumlow,” he says slowly. “I don’t know him at all, I can’t put my finger on it, but...” Then Bucky sees Steve stiffen and hastily adds, “But I promised we wouldn’t talk about the deal, sorry.”

Mention of the deal brings up a question in Steve’s mind and he asks it before he loses his nerve. “Why private equity, Buck? I know I asked you that seven years ago. You never really answered me.”

Bucky is clearly about to say something snarky, and then stops short. He blows his breath out and says, “Honestly? I’m doing it for the money.”

“Money?” says Steve incredulously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “I want to make so much money that no one can touch me, no one can get on my case for being...for being bi.” He takes a big slug of bourbon and then starts talking quickly, as if he’s afraid of losing his nerve.

“The finance bro crowd in college was pretty brutal and I got a lot of flack at first for not being ‘manly’ enough, for not wearing the ‘right’ clothes,” he says. “There was a lot of ‘no homo’ stuff going around back then and some guys got hassled a lot, even beaten up, for looking or acting ‘too gay.’ You remember the 90s.”

Bucky looks anxiously at Steve, who nods but says nothing, just looks at him silently, wanting to hear more but not wanting to interrupt and cut off the flow. He’s been waiting so long for this, needing to know what happened, why Bucky ghosted him seven years ago, how he got to this place. His chest constricts as he listens.

“I went out with a couple of women in college and I liked a couple guys and tried to date them on the sly, but I was terrified of being found out,” continues Bucky. “Wharton was basically the same. I spent a lot of time hiding who I was. And then one night I decided to take a chance and went to a gay club in Philly with a date. When we left the club, a couple guys came up and started whaling on us, calling us fags,” he says. His free hand clenches and his breath is now coming in short gasps.

“I tried to fight them but my date ran away and it was two on one,” he continues. “Finally someone came and chased them off but I wasn’t in good shape. Went to the ER and the nurses asked if I wanted to call the police. I said no, I didn’t want to press charges.”

“But Bucky,” Steve breaks in, unable to keep silent any longer. “Why not call them? Why not go after those assholes? What they did to you was criminal and wrong...”

“Yeah but Steve, the police wouldn’t have done anything,” says Bucky, his voice wavering. “It would have been a lot of hassle and humiliation and nothing would’ve come of it except me being outed as queer...and a snitch.”

Steve purses his mouth in a thin line. He’s clearly furious on Bucky’s behalf and is about to say something else when Bucky preempts him and continues with his story.

“Anyway, that...incident...made me really bitter and kind of withdrawn,” he says, banging his clenched fist on his thigh. “And then after business school, I went to McKinsey where they were more open and welcoming but by then I was obsessed with the idea of making really huge money to try to insulate myself and be free to do and be what I wanted without getting any shit for it. The only way I could think to do that was private equity.”

Bucky stops to take a breath and another swallow of whiskey.

“Wait, wait,” says Steve, as if his brain is melting. “You wanted to insulate yourself from homophobic bro culture so you chose...private equity??” Bucky laughs wryly.

“I know, right?” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “Linden was one big factory for hetero chauvinist pigs so I just fell in with the crowd, camouflaged myself as best I could. Went out with a lot of women I wasn’t really interested in. Threw a lot of cash at strippers.” Bucky grimaces. “It was not cool. Sorry, ladies.” He closes his eyes for a second.

Steve’s heart hurts as he looks at Bucky struggling, and he realizes the extent of all the pain and anger Bucky’s been carrying all this time. It makes him sad. It makes him want to get up and start breaking things over how unfair it all is.

“Bucky,” he whispers. Bucky opens his eyes and tosses a sorrowful smile at Steve.

“I did hook up with random guys at clubs a couple times while I was at Linden,” Bucky goes on, “and I’d already deleted my social media by then so I wasn’t worried about getting caught out that way. I had gotten rid of those accounts because...well...you know.” He looks right at Steve and swallows hard.

“And then when I met Pierce,” Bucky continues quickly. “He didn’t seem to care about any of that, just about how much money I could make for him, so I jumped at his offer. I’ve worked my ass off for him. He’s told me that after this deal, he’ll make me a partner and give me some ownership and then I’ll have the chance to earn that kind of huge money.”

He pauses and looks at Steve. “I know it sounds dumb when I say it out loud, but I just want to be so rich that it insulates me from kind of casual hate and prejudice.” He gestures at Steve with his highball glass.

“You must have dealt with that shit in the Army,” Bucky says.

“Huh, well, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell wasn’t repealed ‘til after I left, so of course,” Steve says thoughtfully. “So yeah, I had to hide part of myself in the military. It was one reason I got out when I did.” However, Steve refuses to be sidetracked. He puts his drink down on the coffee table and brings his hands together.

“But Buck,” he says, gently but firmly. “Back to those social media accounts for a second. Why did you delete those?”

Bucky looks at him uncomfortably, mouth turned down. “You know why,” he says.

“I don’t,” says Steve, shrugging and staring at him intently. In truth he has an idea why, but he’s going to make Bucky say it out loud in the spirit of complete honesty and truth. If they can’t get to that, especially in the middle of Bucky’s giant confession, then this relationship has no chance and he might as well throw in the towel right now.

Bucky squirms and says, “Fuck, Steve, I told you the other night...”

“You told me the other night that you were afraid,” interrupts Steve, leaning forward toward him. “What were you scared of? Getting found out?”

“Sort of,” admits Bucky. “But mostly I was afraid of...you know...emotions. I had...such strong feelings for you...and they freaked me out and I didn’t know what to do, so I...”

“Left me a note and disappeared,” says Steve bitterly. “And made sure I couldn’t find you.”

Bucky puts his drink down and puts his face in his hands.

“Yeah,” he says, looking up after a minute. “I panicked. It was certainly not my finest moment.” He looks sadly at Steve. “I’m really sorry, Steve. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“Or to you,” says Steve in an emotional voice. “We could’ve started something then, we could’ve been happy together all this time. But you were too scared. So you ran away.” He rubs his hands on his khakis in frustration and then looks intently at Bucky, who is now staring at the floor.

“Listen,” Steve says, sliding closer to Bucky on the couch and impulsively grabbing his forearm, “You can have all the money in the world and it won’t stop bigots from making judgments about you, however wrong and hateful they are. But you can’t let that stop you from doing the things that make you happy, that bring you joy.”

Steve rubs Bucky’s arm. “It’s not your problem how people react to you, Buck,” he says earnestly. “Just be yourself. Stand up for yourself. Surround yourself with people who love you for who you really are, and then the haters don’t matter.”

Bucky looks at where Steve’s touching him, then looks up at him and shakes his head.

“That’s easy for you to say, I was never as brave as you, Stevie, never,” he says in a voice tinged with sadness. “I’ve always cared more about what other people think.”

Steve looks at him and his heart aches.

“You could be brave, Buck,” he says softly. “I always believed in you.”

Bucky pulls his arm away from Steve and puts in front of his face. When he takes it down his eyes are suspiciously shiny and a little red. He polishes off his drink.

“Sometimes you were the only one, Steve,” he says, looking at the floor.

“You...you could get out of Hydra if you wanted to,” Steve blurts out, aware that he’s on shaky ground now but unable to stop. “You’ve got plenty of money...you could do something else...any company in the world would be happy to have you as a senior executive.”

Bucky opens his eyes wide and panicky at this, but then he frowns pityingly at Steve. “If you’re trying to get me to call off the takeover, Steve...”

“No, no,” says Steve urgently, sincerely. “I wasn’t talking about this deal. I just meant if you’re not happy in private equity and want to do something else, you could. You could be happy, Buck, even without ridiculous amounts of money.”

“We’re not all like you, Steve,” Bucky says in a voice tinged with bitterness. “You’ve got such a perfect life, perfect job...”

“You think my life and my job are perfect??” Steve exclaims in surprise. “Haha, that’s rich, seeing as you’re trying to take over my company and kick me out.” He shakes his head and looks pointedly at Bucky, who shrugs.

“You look so at home at Shield, with Fury, with all your co-workers, I dunno,” he says dully.

Suddenly Steve is tempted to confess it all to Bucky, about how he’s done with corporate America and wants to get out to do something worthwhile with his life before it’s too late.

But he hesitates. He doesn’t really trust Bucky - not fully, anyway - and he realizes that Bucky could well use that confession against him, against Nick, against Shield. So instead he chuckles drily and says, “Well, it’s not.” He looks at Bucky again and sees that he’s frowning.

“Hey, Buck, don’t look so down,” he says, making an effort to lighten the mood. “Let’s talk about something else.”

They have another drink and talk a while longer, laughing about stories from the road in consulting at Deloitte and McKinsey and reminiscing about the old days at Roosevelt High in Brooklyn. Then Steve’s Apple Watch pings him and he notices the time.

“This has been nice but I gotta get going, Buck,” he says. “I got work tomorrow. I’m sure you do too.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky, looking a little wistful. They both remember the deal, and how they’re on opposite sides, at the same time and the mood goes somber again. Steve gets up to put on his sport coat and pick up his briefcase and Bucky follows him to the entryway.

“I’ll call my car for you,” he says, pulling out his phone.

“Enh, don’t bother, I can take the subway,” says Steve.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” retorts Bucky. “Let me do something nice for you since you dragged your ass all the way over here. Besides,” he says, “it’ll take ages to get a train to Vinegar Hill from here on a Sunday night.” He punches some buttons on his phone. “My driver’ll be here in five minutes.”

Steve shrugs and gives in. He’s not averse to getting a ride home in a sweet car instead of standing on subway platforms for ages.

Then Bucky is quiet for a few seconds, as if deciding whether to say something.

“Hey Steve,” says Bucky abruptly just before Steve opens the door to leave.

“Yeah Buck,” says Steve, turning toward him. Bucky hesitates.

“I saw your mom died last year,” he says, taking a step forward. “I’m so sorry...she was such a great person...she really supported you...and me...” He stops, gulping visibly.

Steve’s heart twinges and his throat closes up a little.

“Thanks, Buck,” he says, his voice breaking.

“I felt weird about coming to the funeral or the wake...but I sent flowers...” Bucky twists his hands uncomfortably.

“That huge sheaf of white roses was from you?” Steve says in disbelief. “I always wondered who sent it...there was no name on the label...” Bucky shrugs.

“Least I could do,” he says gruffly. “Could’ve done a lot more.”

Steve is overwhelmed. He gasps out a sob and tears start to leak from the corners of his eyes. As if in a daze he drops his briefcase and steps forward to envelope Bucky in a huge hug. He’s missed his mom so much. His current friends have been supportive, but Bucky is the only one who really knew his mom and remembers her from when they were young. 

Bucky hesitates for a second, then carefully wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and pulls him close. They stay intertwined for a minute...two minutes...as Steve quietly sobs and Bucky caresses the back of his neck and his hair. Steve clasps his hands at the small of Bucky’s back and feels whole, and _home_ , for the first time in a very long while...in seven years, maybe.

Steve still can’t reconcile the Bucky he knew way back when with the man he is now, but he’s starting to see that maybe he isn’t really the soulless asshole persona he wraps himself in so often. That maybe there’s someone loving and brave and caring underneath that callous bravado on the exterior. And what he’s been through certainly goes a long way toward explaining why he acts like that soulless asshole so much.

Finally they pull back and look at each other. Steve’s face is pink and blotchy and tears are running down his face. Bucky smiles tenderly and pulls one hand away from Steve’s neck to wipe the tears off his cheeks.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve sniffs, rubbing Bucky’s back. Bucky doesn’t answer but leans in to gently kiss Steve’s forehead like a benison and then lay a sweet kiss on his mouth. Steve heart feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest.

“Thank you, Steve,” says Bucky softly. “For everything.” Steve leans over and picks up his briefcase.

“I wondered if...” Steve starts, and then stops. “Nah. I was gonna ask if I could call or text you, but it’s probably not a good idea with this whole takeover deal. Breaking those 12 SEC regulations and all. Maybe after next week...?”

Bucky chuffs out a laugh and kisses Steve on the cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Stevie,” he says. Then his eyes perk up. “Gimme your phone,” he says. Steve digs his iPhone out of his pocket and hands it over. Bucky opens it, looks at the number in Settings, and hands it back, then grabs Steve’s hand.

“If you get a text from Unknown Caller,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s palm. “You’ll know who it is.”

Steve smirks. “The privacy thing, huh,” he says. Bucky grins.

“Smart boy,” he says.

“Well, goodnight, Buck, it was good to see you,” says Steve. 

Bucky raises Steve’s hand to his lips to kiss it, and then leans in for another quick kiss on the lips. Then he steps back and smiles.

“Goodnight, Steve, see ya around.”

Steve heads to the elevator, goes down to the lobby, and leaves the building where the sleek Mercedes is waiting. He gets in, closes the door, and snuggles down into the soft leather seats. He feels more hopeful than he has in a long time. His life is still a mess, but maybe - just maybe - he could be in this mess with Bucky, as many rules as that breaks. The lights of the city twinkle as the car pulls away from the curb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, this chapter got long on me but I couldn’t shorten the last scene because, you know, it’s these two idiots. 
> 
> I agree with Sam about shrimp and grits, especially in South Carolina. :-)


	4. Your Eyes They Turn Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hesitates and remembers their heart-to-heart conversation on Sunday night. Again he’s tempted to tell Bucky about his desire to leave corporate life, but again decides it’s too soon and he can’t be disloyal to Fury. And he’s still not 100% sure that he can trust Bucky, as much as he loves him. He shakes his head.
> 
> “Anyway,” Steve continues. “I know no one’s pure and it’s hard to keep your ideals in the corporate world. D’you want dessert?” 
> 
> “Nah,” replies Bucky, eyes twinkling. “But I wouldn’t mind *being* dessert.” 
> 
> Steve’s pupils dilate involuntarily and he takes a deep breath in. Bucky stares at him with a smoldering gaze and looks like an angel, albeit an angel with a very dirty mind. A small part of Steve tells him to be careful, reminds him that Bucky is still that private equity jerkwad, but the rest of him - led by his dick - is shouting at him to get on with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: very brief reference to past homophobia

“Hey Steve.”

Steve looks up from his laptop, where he’s proofing and finalizing a presentation deck for Fury to use in a management committee meeting tomorrow, to see Natasha standing in his office doorway. He and his team have been working on market projections that support Fury’s alternative options to Hydra’s proposed takeover deal.

“Hey Nat, what’s up? Does Nick need me?”

It’s the Wednesday morning after his epic conversation with Bucky on Sunday night. Shield has had a management committee meeting on Tuesday and another Board meeting late Tuesday afternoon. The former was contentious and difficult, with Steve backing Fury up to say that they should fight the takeover and bring a couple of alternatives to the full shareholder forum, and others (including Rumlow, Steve noted) saying they should consider taking the Hydra offer before that forum.

Nat comes in and closes Steve’s office door. She’s wearing a fitted black pantsuit, red blouse and her usual stilettos. “Can we talk?” she says.

Steve gestures to a chair. “Sure,” he answers. “Have a seat.”

He tamps down the strange feeling in his gut. Steve wasn’t invited to yesterday’s Board meeting, which he finds a little odd. In normal times, he’s not always brought into Board meetings, but these are hardly normal times. But he didn’t kick up a fuss about it. Right now he’s just trying to stay focused and be there for Fury. 

Nat comes straight to the point. “You heard about the Board meeting yesterday?”

“No, not yet.” Steve shakes his head. “I was assuming I’d get a debrief from you or Clint at some point.”

“Well, consider this your debrief,” Nat says drily. “The Board took a vote on accepting the takeover deal at the end of the meeting and it only failed by one vote - Fury’s.”

Steve’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly.

“But...but...I thought that kind of a vote wasn’t on the agenda,” he says. “The final agenda Clint sent me yesterday for reference didn’t have anything like that on it.”

“Rollins forced it,” Nat says. “At the end of the meeting. He called for a vote on the spot, and Stern and Rockwell backed him up. So Nick had to take a vote right then. It was really close.”

Steve looks at her intently.

“Rumlow?” he says.

“Voted to accept,” Nat says, pointedly returning his stare. “I cornered him after the meeting and he claimed that he didn’t see any other option that made financial sense.”

“Hmm,” says Steve. “That’s because he’s just looking at the short-term earnings numbers. He probably hasn’t had the chance to go through Darcy’s longer-term projections...”

“Steve, he’s seen the projections,” Nat interrupts. “He waved them aside as unimportant.”

“That can’t be right,” insists Steve. “I’ll go talk to him, take him through the scenarios, get him to see what our two- and three-year plans look like...”

“Steve,” Nat interrupts again. “Rumlow’s seen all of that and he’s ignoring it. He’s acting so strange. It all looks so suspicious, especially since he’s been such a loyal officer to Fury up until recently. You said so yourself last week.”

Steve gives in.

“You’re right,” he says with a sigh. “He is acting strange, but maybe he’s just looking for a big payout. He’s a shareholder himself, after all.”

Suddenly there’s a knock on the door, and they turn to look. Darcy’s there, waving through the side window.

“Can we let her in?” asks Steve. “She has some new analysis for me, you might as well hear it too while you’re here.” Nat nods, and Steve beckons for Darcy to enter.

“Hey Steve, hey Nat,” says Darcy in her usual energetic voice as she opens the door and closes it again. She’s wearing a purple wrap dress with a black blazer over it and her usual black flats. She’s carrying her laptop and her usual trenta vanilla sweet cream cold brew from Starbucks. If Steve had to guess, he’d say this is her second, and it’s only ten-thirty - hence the extra energy.

“Hey Darce,” says Steve. “Nat and I were just discussing the Board meeting yesterday.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Darcy says, sitting down next to Nat. “Rumors are flying all over the office this morning about how the Board forced Nick to take a vote on the takeover.”

Nat sighs and looks at Steve. He shrugs. “People are worried, Nat. They’re gonna talk.” He turns back to Darcy.

“Anything interesting in that new analysis?” he asks her. “Let me and Nat know, and she can take it back to Fury and Clint.”

“Nothing too interesting,” Darcy says, opening her laptop and pulling up a spreadsheet. “But I did kind of a weird thing that I wanted to show you.”

“What kind of weird thing?” asks Steve, leaning in to peer at the document.

“Well, you know Sitwell, that creep from Finance you guys wanted me to keep an eye on?” Darcy starts. “He’s still acting all sketchy, like he was last week. Last night we were going over some of his sales numbers and, I dunno, they seemed low to me so I called him on it. He got kind of defensive and told me I didn’t know what I was talking about, that I didn’t know anything about finance...”

“Wait, what?” Steve interrupts in surprise. “He said that? To you?” The truth is that Darcy is really good at finance, graduated from Booth at University of Chicago top of her MBA class, and has years of finance consulting experience from Deloitte under her belt. She could be a Finance Director anywhere she wants, but she prefers strategy because it’s more interesting and less narrowly focused. So, Steve realizes, Sitwell is a chauvinist pig and an idiot as well as a creep.

“Yep,” says Darcy. “Well, he said it to my tits, of course,” she adds, rolling her eyes. “I kept my cool and got out of there, but late last night I ran his latest quarterly projections through the finance system to compare and they were 5% lower across the board than what SAP was showing me across all the divisions.”

“What??” Nat says in a shocked voice. Darcy grimaces and nods her head.

“I need to double-check, but it looks super fishy,” she says. “I’ll have the rechecked figures to you early this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Darce,” says Steve. “And don’t tell *anyone* else about this right now, OK? Not even people in our group.” She nods again.

At that moment Steve’s phone vibrates and jumps a little on his desk. He flushes a little, grabs the phone, and puts it in his top drawer. Both Nat and Darcy look at him, eyebrows raised.

“You’re not gonna check that?” Nat says pointedly. Steve tries to play it cool.

“Nah, it can’t be more important than what we’re talking about right now,” he says. “I’ll check it later.” The two women look at him for a few moments, then clearly decide to let it pass.

“Well, I’ll go talk to Clint about this new...development,” Nat says, standing up.

“Not to Fury?” Steve asks her.

“No, I want to wait til you guys have double-checked those numbers,” Nat replies. “Fury has enough on his plate without this, and if we’ve made a mistake or if it’s nothing, then we shouldn’t tell him anyway.” She’s about to head for the door, then remembers something and turns back to Steve.

“Hey, did you ever hear back from Sharon?” Nat asks him.

“Yeah, late yesterday afternoon, I was gonna tell you,” says Steve. “She said she talked to her boss, but their management isn’t considering any alliances or partnerships right now. I think it was a polite way of telling me her company doesn’t want to get involved in our mess.” He grimaces. Nat sighs.

“Well, understandable,” she says. “This...mess...is not for the faint of heart. Any other options?”

Steve hesitates, then says, “There’s Maria and Stark Industries. I was sort of saving them as a Hail Mary pass.”

“Well, Steve,” says Nat in a voice laden with sarcasm. “It’s fourth and ten and we’re down four points with six seconds on the clock at the end of the game,” she says. Steve smiles.

“Got it, coach,” he says with a mock-salute. “Initiating shot play formation now.” She grins and steps out of the office. Steve turns to Darcy.

“OK, Darce, let’s go over those top line numbers and how they differ from Sitwell’s,” Steve says, gesturing at her laptop.

“OK, Steve, but...is everything alright?” Darcy asks, looking at him searchingly. “I don’t mean to pry, but...you’ve been acting a little weird lately.”

“Like, Sitwell weird?” Steve says, half-joking. Darcy shakes her head vigorously.

“No no, not like creepy weird,” she insists. “Just like...distracted. Like sometimes you’re not focused. Or not even listening. Which isn’t like you. Are you OK? Like I said, I don’t mean to get all up in your business...”

_Am I distracted, Darce,_ Steve says to himself inside his own head. _The company’s about to go down, I want out of the whole corporate world, and I’m wildly in love with the person who’s trying to destroy us. I might be a little fucking distracted???_

“No, Darce, it’s OK,” Steve says. “You’re not prying. This whole takeover thing is crazy and then...I’ve got a...personal issue I’m dealing with. But it’s nothing. It’s fine. I’m handling it.”

“Handling it...by dumping it in your desk drawer?” Darcy’s eyes dart down to where his phone is hiding and back up to his face. Damn it. She really is too smart and knows him too well.

“Yeah,” he says, staring back at her. Then he gives her a lopsided grin. “Compartmentalization is a key part of life, Darce.”

Darcy chuckles. “Alright, boss, this is me, taking your word for it. But I’m here, OK? If you want to talk about anything?”

“Thanks, Darce, noted,” Steve says, looking at her affectionately. Then he turns serious.

“You’ve been incredible through this whole thing,” he says. “If we come out whole on the other side, I’m getting you a raise and a promotion.” Darcy blushes and looks down at her lap, for once at a loss for words.

“Now about these numbers...” Steve continues, and they start going through the spreadsheet.

*****

Forty minutes later Darcy steps out of his office. They’ve gone through the financials again and it looks like she could be right, that Sitwell (and Rumlow?) are somehow lowballing their numbers to make the Shield situation look worse than it is. Steve’s not sure how they’ve managed to circumvent the SAP system, and their accountants, but it looks pretty bad. But he asks Darcy to double- and triple-check her analysis before going back to Nat and Clint.

Once she leaves, Steve fishes his phone out of his desk and looks at his texts. He vaguely heard another couple of buzzes while he and Darcy were working.

**Unknown Caller**

💥

**Unknown Caller**

💪🏾

**Unknown Caller**

👽

Bucky has been sending him single-emoji texts for the last two days, since he got Steve’s mobile number. There’s nothing that identifies him in these texts, and they’re not even lovey-dovey or sexy - no hearts or heart-eyes or two people together, or even an eggplant or a peach. But Steve knows they’re Bucky’s way of telling him that he’s thinking of him. His heart warms and he smiles but immediately feels guilty and puts his phone down.

_How can I be happy when things are so bad here?_ he thinks to himself, leaning over and putting his face in his hands. And he acknowledges that even this happiness is tinged with caution and worry apart from the takeover crisis. Can he trust Bucky not to ghost him this time? He remembers the months after Chicago with a grimace, how devastated he was. He thinks of Bucky’s note on the taxi receipt, faded and creased in his wallet. He’s not sure he could survive another betrayal. And then he rolls his eyes at himself.

_Stop being such a drama queen, Rogers,_ he tells himself. _And stop mooning over three fucking emojis and get back to work._

He remembers then that he promised Nat he’d get in touch with Maria at SI. He thinks about the best way to get in touch with her - email? Text? Outlook invite for a Skype call? - and then decides that the direct approach is best given the urgency of the situation. He picks up his cell phone, scrolls through his Contacts, and dials.

The phone rings a number of times and then just as he thinks it’s going to voicemail, an unfamiliar voice picks up.

“Stark Industries, Maria Hill’s phone,” the voice says chirpily. Steve is taken aback.

“Yeah, uh, hi, it’s Steve Rogers from Shield,” he says hesitantly. “I was trying to reach Maria?”

“Oh, hi there, Mr. Rogers!” says the chirpy voice. Steve tries not to roll his eyes, even though he *hates* being called that. “It’s Kamala Khan, one of Pepper’s assistants.”

“Oh hey, Kamala,” Steve says, trying to bring up a face to go with the name. He met her once last year at a SI benefit; she was in Pepper’s entourage. “Is Maria available?”

“Maria’s in China with Pepper this week, meeting with some suppliers and partners,” Kamala answers. “She couldn’t bring her SI phone so she left it with me. I can get an encrypted message to her if you want, and she’ll get it tomorrow morning first thing.”

“Uh, sure,” Steve says, uncertain how much to say to Kamala who, as friendly as she is, is still an outsider. “Can you just tell her I called with an important question and ask her to get in touch with me as soon as possible? I know that might take a while...”

“Absolutely, Mr. Rogers!” says Kamala brightly.

“Call me Steve, please, Kamala,” begs Steve, before she can conjure any more images of cardigans and puppets and singing.

“OK. Steve,” she says. “I’ll get that message to her right away.”

“Thanks, Kamala, appreciate it,” says Steve. They exchange a few further pleasantries and hang up.

_So much for the Hail Mary pass,_ thinks Steve glumly. If Pepper and Maria are in China the rest of the week, that won’t leave any time for discussions before the big shareholder meeting the following Wednesday. He wonders if they’ve run out of options. And he worries about Sitwell’s wonky financials and what that could mean.

Steve’s laptop emits a Skype chirp - it’s an IM from the Chief Marketing Officer, asking if they can get together now for an unscheduled meeting. Steve types back, _yes, see you in 5 in your office_ and shrugs into his suit jacket. He pockets his phone, picks up his laptop, and walks out of his office. On the way down the hall his pants pocket vibrates with the familiar buzz. He considers ignoring it but finds he can’t wait and digs his phone out of his pocket.

**Unknown Caller**

_Vinegar Hilll Hse_

_830p_

*****

Steve walks up Front Street toward Hudson Avenue and Vinegar Hill House. He’s excited to see Bucky but his brain is whirling with the news at work. Darcy stopped by his office later in the day than she’d originally meant to, but told him that she’d double- and triple- and quadruple-checked the financials in SAP, and confirmed that Sitwell’s projections were low. She’d also done some IT snooping and found that Sitwell had made his spreadsheets look like they were the “official” numbers direct from SAP, but that they’d been changed after download.

This is a serious situation and could potentially stop the deal from going through or at least delay it a bit, which would be good news for Fury and the company. But Steve realizes that if this is really true, there could be some illegal stuff going on, and he absolutely doesn’t know what to do about that. In all his years in business he’s never come across that kind of corporate fraud, and it scares and overwhelms him.

He resolves to talk to Nat about it in the morning - she has more experience with these high-level shenanigans - and sends her a quick text asking if they can meet at his house tomorrow morning before they head into work. He gets back an “ _Ok_ ” almost immediately.

Steve turns up Hudson Avenue and adjusts his laptop bag on his shoulder, wishing he was done with all this. Not for the first time, that conscience/mom/God voice in his head is very loud and telling him to GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN. He sighs and opens the door of Vinegar Hill House. He’s running a little late and wonders if Bucky will be at the restaurant ahead of him.

As he walks in, he doesn’t see Bucky right away and talks to the hostess, who directs him to a little alcove at the back that’s hidden from the main room. It’s a beautiful September night and he’d love to sit outside, but accedes to Bucky and his mania for privacy. Bucky is sitting back to the wall wearing a beautiful navy suit, lavender shirt, and purple and blue tie. He stands up as Steve approaches and sticks his hand out.

“Steve,” he says smoothly, “Nice to see you again.” Steve is a little disconcerted - he was going to go in for a hug given how things finished up the other night - but looks at the gleam in Bucky’s eyes and realizes it’s for show.

“Hi, James, very nice to see you too,” he says politely, shaking Bucky’s hand. A particularly astute observer would notice that they shake hands for several seconds longer than usual, but otherwise nothing is out of place in this encounter. They sit down behind the alcove wall and are now hidden from the main room. Bucky has already ordered them bourbons and apps, and they clink glasses and take a sip.

“Sorry I’m late,” says Steve, putting his glass down. “Got held up at work...and then the F train, you know how that is...” He smirks and adds, “Well, no you don’t...not these days at least.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, Steve Rogers, noble man of the people, takes the subway, lives in Brooklyn...” he says.

“You used to live in Brooklyn once upon a time, Buck,” Steve remarks drily, picking up some bread and popping it in his mouth. Bucky looks around in a faux-panic.

“Ssshhh, Stevie! Don’t tell anyone or my reputation will be ruined!” he says. Now it’s Steve’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Oh my God, Buck,” he says. “You are such a poseur. Besides, Brooklyn’s come a long way lately. You’re in the chi-chi section of Dumbo and everything.”

“Yeah, this area’s OK,” Bucky comments, eating a piece of bread himself. “Reminds me of the West Village.” Steve snorts and joke-punches him on the arm.

They order entrees and shoot the shit through dinner and glasses of wine. It’s such a nice time that Steve manages to forget all his troubles at work, but then at the end of the meal Bucky talks animatedly about something he’s going to do “once everything’s done next week” and it brings back all the drama at Shield Corp and he remembers that Bucky is on the other side of this whole thing. He gets a little melancholy and distracted thinking about it.

Bucky notices and says, “What’s up, Stevie?”

Steve sighs and looks at him. He hesitates and then says, “It’s just all wrong, Buck. I mean, I know we’re not supposed to talk about this deal, but if it goes through it’ll mean 50,000 Americans lose their jobs. I don’t see how you can live with that choice.”

Bucky goes sober but looks straight back at Steve. “You and your ideals, Stevie,” he says, not unkindly but shaking his head at Steve’s naïveté. “If 50,000 people lose their jobs here, it means 50,000 poorer people in emerging countries get jobs to help their families and their economy.” He finishes his wine. “And you know no company is pure, Steve. Shield is hardly a model corporate citizen, they contaminated rivers in Massachusetts and upstate for decades until people brought lawsuits and the government forced them to clean up.”

“I know, I know,” says Steve. “The company isn’t exactly an innocent bystander in the world. It’s tough to figure out what the right thing to do is every day. I keep thinking...”

He hesitates and remembers their heart-to-heart conversation on Sunday night. Again he’s tempted to tell Bucky about his desire to leave corporate life, but again decides it’s too soon and he can’t be disloyal to Fury. And he’s still not 100% sure that he can trust Bucky, as much as he loves him. He shakes his head.

“Anyway,” Steve continues. “I know no one’s pure and it’s hard to keep your ideals in the corporate world. D’you want dessert?”

“Nah,” replies Bucky, eyes twinkling. “But I wouldn’t mind *being* dessert.”

Steve’s pupils dilate involuntarily and he takes a deep breath in. Bucky stares at him with a smoldering gaze and looks like an angel, albeit an angel with a very dirty mind. A small part of Steve tells him to be careful, reminds him that Bucky is still that private equity jerkwad, but the rest of him - led by his dick - is shouting at him to get on with it.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes out. They get the check as fast as possible and stand up to leave, trying to stay calm.

“I’ll call my driver,” says Bucky, pulling out his phone.

“No you fuckin won’t,” says Steve, using all his self-control not to pull Bucky by the arm as they leave the restaurant and head down the street. “I live like five minutes away, we can fuckin walk.”

“But my shoes...” Bucky starts, looking down at his two thousand-dollar Berluti loafers. Steve snorts out loud.

“I’ll buy you some new shoes, Buck, c’mon,” he growls and they walk down the block to Steve’s place.

*****

Truth be told, Steve’s apartment, on Cranberry Street in Brooklyn Heights, is actually more like a 20-minute walk from Vinegar Hill House. But it’s a beautiful night and the streets are empty and Steve and Bucky hold hands as they walk down the streets to get there. Ten minutes or so into the walk, Bucky starts complaining but as they get closer, he looks around.

“This...this is the _Moonstruck_ neighborhood, ain’t it, Stevie?” he says, Brooklyn accent getting stronger all the time.

“Yep,” Steve says, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That is cute as fuck and I can’t even deal with you right now,” says Bucky, shaking his head. They turn the corner and head down the street toward a smallish brownstone nestled in between some larger ones.

“Is this...is this your place,” says Bucky in a disbelieving voice as they stride up the steps.

“Uh-huh,” says Steve, unlocking the door and pushing Bucky inside.

Steve’s brownstone - yes, he owns the whole brownstone, thank you very much - is small but with its high ceilings and abundant natural light it feels more spacious. The living room/dining room/kitchen space on the first floor has been lovingly remodeled with its original design in mind, and comfortable furnishings and decor in shades of blue and green are perfectly placed in the layout. The kitchen has new appliances and matte black granite countertops but warm cherrywood cabinetry. Refinished natural wood moldings are everywhere, and scrolled tin ceilings painted off-white top it off. It’s a perfect space that radiates welcome and comfort the moment you step inside.

And yet, right now, Steve and Bucky could give two shits about welcome and comfort and decor because no sooner do they enter the house when Steve drops his briefcase on the floor, pushes Bucky up against the wall, slots a powerful thigh between his legs, and kisses him like he’s on a mission. Which, maybe he is.

Bucky moans into his mouth and Steve takes that opportunity to lick over his top lip, then nip his bottom lip between his teeth. Bucky reacts by grabbing the back of Steve’s neck and shoving his hips forward to grind against Steve’s leg. Steve can feel Bucky’s heat radiating through his clothes and his hardness against Steve’s pelvic crease and that just urges him on. As he kisses over to Bucky’s ear and bites down his neck, Steve holds his shoulder with one hand, slips off his suit jacket, and loosens his tie with the other.

At that moment Steve’s own heat hits furnace-level and he feels imprisoned in his own clothing. He realizes that he - and Bucky - need to be wearing less, and right this minute. He steps back from Bucky and pulls off his jacket, button down shirt, and undershirt as quickly as possible, reveling in the feel of the cool air on his ridiculous pecs. Bucky’s eyes gleam and he undoes his cuffs, pulls off his tie, and starts to unbutton his tarty lavender shirt, but Steve’s lizard brain kicks in and his lip curls up as he knocks Bucky’s hand away.

“That’s my job,” he snarls. His biceps and triceps flex and in one fluid movement he tears Bucky’s shirt off him. Buttons fly everywhere and hit the floor with soft clinks.

Bucky shrieks - that’s really the only word for it - and his erection tents out his perfectly tailored trousers. He leans in to give Steve a filthy kiss, making sure to rub their bare chests together, then quick as a wink manhandles Steve against the wall and drops to his knees. He undoes Steve’s belt and pulls his pants and boxers down, but doesn’t wait for Steve to get them all the way off before licking a fat stripe up Steve’s dick.

“Ohhhh fuck...” moans Steve, closing his eyes.

“That’s right, baby,” Bucky hisses, taking the root of Steve’s cock in one hand. “That’s what you’re gonna do to me as soon as I get you ready.”

The prospect of fucking into Bucky’s perfect ass is overwhelming and Steve’s dick jerks in Bucky’s hand.

“You like that, don’t you,” Bucky whispers before taking half of Steve’s length into his mouth and pulling back to flick his tongue around his glans and slit.

“Uh...huh...” stutters Steve, his breathing labored. Bucky smiles and goes back to sucking.

Looking down at Bucky’s beautiful mouth swallowing down his dick, Steve can’t quite believe it. Five days ago, he’d been looking at much the same blistering hot image, but that was in the stall in a men’s room and he’d been so *angry* with Bucky, with his arrogance and callousness, and much of his lust then was fueled by frustration and rage. Now they’re in his house, his refuge, one of his favorite places in the world, and his anger with Bucky is all but gone, replaced with a swelling feeling in his heart.

He’s deathly afraid of this feeling, terrified of how big it is, terrified of how it could subsume him, terrified of falling and not being caught. But he catches Bucky’s eye as Bucky looks up to see how he’s enjoying his blowjob, and he sees something beyond naked lust there, something...deeper and realer. The other night Bucky was all mischief and play, now he’s more sincere, a person and not just a persona. It makes Steve catch his breath. He acknowledges his fear of the Big Feeling and puts it aside for now. He’ll deal with later...later. He needs to be present in this moment. Right now it’s just him and Bucky...and Bucky’s tongue, which is so talented it should probably be illegal.

After another minute, Bucky pulls his mouth off Steve’s cock, gives the head a little kiss andstands up.

“Take me to bed, Stevie,” he says softly and leans in to kiss Steve’s open mouth. As his tongue swirls around Steve’s lips, Steve can taste his own pre-cum on Bucky’s tongue and a wave of heat passes through his midsection. He pulls off the rest of his clothes to avoid tripping on his own pants and stands up to kiss Bucky again. He grabs Bucky’s hand and kisses it, then tugs him up the stairs to his bedroom on the second floor.

In Steve’s room Bucky kicks off his shoes and starts unbuckling his own belt. Steve catches his hand to stop him and kisses his mouth.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, peppering feather-light kisses down Bucky’s jawline, and then says again, “That’s my job” only more gently. Bucky’s head goes back and he emits a punched-out groan. Steve nips down Bucky’s neck and licks his collarbone as he undoes Bucky’s belt and zipper. He bends down as he pulls off the pants and Bucky’s boxer briefs and socks, the care he takes with them in direct contrast to the way he ripped Bucky’s shirt off downstairs. On his way back to standing he licks up Bucky’s length just for the pleasure of hearing him gasp.

Back standing, Steve kisses Bucky and hugs him tight, luxuriating in the feel of skin on skin and the ever-increasing warmth between them. As their erections grind together, Bucky hisses and tries to press his hips even closer to Steve’s.

“C’mon, fuck me now, Stevie,” he breathes into Steve’s mouth. “Please.”

Bucky’s begging goes straight to Steve’s cock, and he licks into Bucky’s mouth once more before maneuvering him onto his back on Steve’s bed. He covers Bucky’s body with his own and interlaces his fingers with Bucky’s to bring his arms over his head.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Buck,” he whispers into Bucky’s ear before licking around the shell and moving down to bite the earlobe.

“Yes...YES...fuck...” hisses Bucky, thrusting his hips up toward Steve’s crotch in an effort to get more friction. Steve reaches over to the bedside table with one hand and pulls a bottle of lube and a condom out of the drawer. He coats his fingers and reaches down between them to circle the outside of Bucky’s hole. Bucky gasps and arches his back in an effort to get closer to Steve’s hand, which Steve takes as permission to penetrate him with one finger up to the second knuckle and kiss his neck at the same time.

“More, Steve, more...” moans Bucky, and Steve slips two fingers inside him, pushing deeper and deeper, and then more lube and three fingers and...

“Please, Stevie, it’s so good but I need your cock in me, I need it, fuck, you need to fuck me right now, I can’t...” Bucky is babbling; his face is scrunched with pleasure and frustration and his feet are scrabbling against the sheets, chasing more sensation.

“Ssshhh, I got ya, Buck,” Steve whispers, and kisses his temple. He pulls out his fingers and rolls on the condom, then pours more lube over his length, pumps it a few times, and lines up with Bucky’s hole.

“C’mon...c’mon...” says Bucky feverishly. Steve closes his eyes, pushes forward, and gently breaches his rim, then slides smoothly all the way in until his lower abdomen touches Bucky’s balls. He opens his eyes to take in the magnificent image of Bucky Barnes laid out beneath him, head back, mouth open, hands clutching the bedsheets.

“Bucky,” he says softly but with command. “Buck. Look at me, Buck.” Bucky reluctantly opens his eyes - his beautiful blue-grey eyes - and looks Steve in the face.

“I’m inside you, Buck. Can you feel me inside you?” Bucky nods, his eyes cloudy with want but never leaving Steve’s.

“I’m inside you...and now I’m gonna fuck you,” Steve growls, and starts driving into Bucky, not frantically but with purpose, taking care to roll his cock over Bucky’s prostate with every thrust. He never stops staring into Bucky’s eyes, and as he fucks into him, he pours every emotion he feels toward Bucky into that look, trying to communicate all the longing, all the anger, all the frustration, all the love he’s felt for this man out through his eyes.

And Bucky is mesmerized. Steve expects he’ll close his eyes and give in to the pleasure, but he looks back at Steve, never averting his gaze, taking in everything Steve has to express and transmitting back all the fear and doubt he’s felt, overridden by his own longing and by the love he, too, has been too scared to admit. It’s thrilling and overwhelming and terrifying all at the same time.

It’s also a huge turn-on. Steve feels the heat pooling in his gut, feels his balls start to tense, and knows he is close. He also feels Bucky’s hardness under his stomach as he pumps into him and realizes he’s close too.

“Bucky...” Steve murmurs, smiling wickedly into his eyes. “Gonna come. Come for me now, Buck. Come for me. Come for me.” This last entreaty is a direct order, delivered in a low growl. Bucky’s cock twitches and his eyes and mouth widen in surprise as he keeps his gaze locked onto Steve’s.

“Oh...God...” he whispers, and spills out onto his own chest. The sight sends Steve over the edge, and only six or seven thrusts later he tenses and empties himself into Bucky. He breaks eye contact and collapses gently on Bucky’s chest, chin on his shoulder, heedless of the mess he’s making of them both, craving that warmth and skin-to-skin contact, not wanting to pull out, wanting to stay close.

And Bucky obviously wants the same thing because he wraps his arms and legs around Steve and grasps onto him like he’d keep him there forever if he could. They say nothing but hold each other, savoring the feeling of suspended reality where nothing matters but contact and endorphins and heartbeats.

After a little while Steve gets too uncomfortable and has to pull out and tie off the condom and throw it away. He runs to the bathroom to throw it out and grab a damp towel and comes back to bed to be with Bucky, still lying on his back, looking blissfully at the ceiling. Steve carefully wipes them both off, then snuggles against Bucky, who turns his head and smiles.

“Steve,” he says, shaking his head a little against the pillow. “Steve.” Steve’s heart surges up in his chest.

“Buck,” he says in a voice heavy with emotion and about half an octave lower than his normal register. Steve leans in to fasten his lips on Bucky’s in a searing kiss. They make out for a bit, licking into each other’s mouths but without any urgency, just for the fun of it.

“That was...” Bucky starts as they pull apart. “You...I...we...” but the words don’t come and he stops. Steve feels a strong sense of deja vu shoot through him - remembers himself saying the same thing after their night in the hotel in Chicago - but instead of acting cocky, as Bucky did, he smiles and tenderly strokes Bucky’s hair.

“It really was,” he says. “Buck, I...” He stops. He was about to tell Bucky he loves him, but he can’t quite get the words out. Bucky raises his eyebrows and raises the corner of his mouth in a smirk, a shadow of the old arrogant jerkwad from last week...from seven years ago...crossing his face. Steve’s guard goes up.

“You what?” Bucky asks. The arrogant jerkwad expression disappears and he looks sincere again. But it’s too late.

“I...I...am so glad you’re here,” Steve stammers out. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky wistfully, almost as if he knew what Steve wanted to say but couldn’t. “It really was. You were amazing, Steve.”

“You too, Buck,” says Steve, and leans in to kiss him again. He wishes he could just stay here forever with Bucky, wishes he could tell him he loves him, but that jerkwad expression reminds him of the whole takeover deal and all the outside forces arrayed against them, not least of which Bucky’s job and his other commitment issues.

Steve sighs and strokes Bucky’s shoulder, and feels that jagged scar running down his arm.

“What happened here, Buck,” he murmurs, tracing the scar with his fingers. Bucky stiffens a bit.

“When those assholes beat me up outside the club in Philly, I fell on a piece of scrap metal propped against a dumpster,” he says shortly. “Needed forty stitches and a tetanus shot.”

Steve’s heart melts. “I’m so sorry, Buck,” he whispers. He leans over and kisses down the scar, carefully and reverently. Bucky tenses as if frozen, then grabs Steve’s head and locks his lips onto Steve’s, kissing him as if he’ll never let him go, as if he’s his lifeline.

After a few more minutes of kissing, Steve pulls back to look at Bucky’s face. It’s the same beautiful face as seven years ago, but with a few more laugh lines and shadows under the cheekbones. He reaches out to caress down Bucky’s jawline, but the late hour catches up with him and he stifles a yawn. Steve is horrified and says “Oh shit!” but Bucky laughs.

“Hey, old man, am I keeping you up,” Bucky says, his eyes sparkling.

“Nah, hey, sorry about that,” says Steve, turning pink. “I...don’t usually stay up this late. Get up early to go to the gym. Guess I am an old man.”

“If you’re an old man, so’m I,” says Bucky, kissing him on the forehead. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” Steve says hopefully, and he gets a sudden flash of what it would be like to have Bucky live here with him that makes him catch his breath. Bucky smiles and cards his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“I should get back to my place,” he says gently. Steve’s heart plummets into his stomach but he acts like it’s fine.

“OK, got it, I understand,” he says in a faux-casual voice that fools neither of them.

Bucky gets up and uses the en suite bathroom while Steve throws on his bathrobe. Bucky quickly pulls on his clothes, buttoning his suit jacket over his ruined shirt, and texts his driver. He grabs his laptop bag near the front door and turns to Steve.

“Hey,” Bucky says to Steve, clearly struggling, eyes shiny.

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve says, looking at him intently, his eyes also shiny.

“I...I...am so glad I came over tonight, too,” Bucky says. He clearly can’t get the important words out either. He looks forlornly around like he doesn’t really want to leave. “I love your place,” he says, smiling at Steve. “Maybe...maybe next time you can give me a tour?”

“Sure, Buck, that sounds great,” says Steve, trying to sound chipper to mask the fact that he really doesn’t want Bucky to leave.

Bucky’s smile gets bigger.

“I can’t wait,” he says. Outside the streetlight reflects the gleam of the sleek Mercedes as it pulls up to the house. Bucky sees it, then turns back to Steve with a sigh.

“Goodnight, Steve,” he says. “I’ll text you tomorrow.” He hesitates, then grabs Steve by the back of the neck to pull him in for a last sweet kiss.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” says Steve, a little hitch in his voice as they pull apart. Bucky’s mouth turns up in a crooked smile. Then he turns and walks out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter, sorry not sorry what with the real estate porn (a Brooklyn brownstone in the Moonstruck neighborhood, asdflkjdsklfjdslkjfdgh) and the actual porn... ;-)
> 
> The Booth School of Business at University of Chicago is one of the top-ranked MBA programs in the US for finance, second only to Wharton at University of Pennsylvania (where Bucky got his MBA). Darcy totally knows what she’s doing, and Sitwell is full of shit.
> 
> SAP is a large enterprise software company that provides its big corporate clients with systems to support their finance, HR, supply chain, and other operations. 
> 
> Smart businesspeople traveling to China leave their official work laptops and phones at home to avoid potential hacking attempts from Chinese competitors or the government. A security-obsessed company like Stark Industries would absolutely demand following such protocols, especially from high-level executives like Pepper and Maria. 
> 
> Vinegar Hill House doesn’t have a hidden alcove with seating, at least based on its photos, but I added one for story purposes.


	5. And This is My Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve opens the door of The National and enters the building. It’s September and the New York days are still warm but this evening there’s a chill in the air and he’s glad for the warmth inside the restaurant. When he gets inside he attempts to be casual looking around for Bucky. It’s half an hour after he got Bucky’s text and he doubts he’s beaten Bucky here, but he doesn’t immediately see him at the bar or a nearby table. 
> 
> He’s trying not to panic but he’s got a leaden, sinking feeling in his gut. Have they been found out? Is Bucky in trouble? Is Bucky going to try to use their new and fragile relationship to force this deal through? Steve hates that last thought but he has to admit it’s a possibility. He wants so much to trust Bucky but he knows Bucky can be weak and easily tempted into taking the easier way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: reference to mild violence and its aftermath

“So, Nat, whaddya think?”

Nat is sitting at the island in Steve’s kitchen at eight thirty the morning after his late night with Bucky. Steve got up early to go the gym and to clean up his house so Nat wouldn’t see all the detritus from this amazing night, including picking up all the buttons that popped off Bucky’s shirt. (He might have put those buttons in a small box in his nightstand, because only God can judge him.)

So he’s exhausted, but trying to focus and give Nat the full story about Sitwell’s wonky financials. It helps that she’s brought over a couple of huge lattes from Joe Coffee.

Nat shakes her head. “It sounds super suspicious. And you and Darcy are sure Sitwell’s numbers are lower than what’s actually in the system?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. Darcy checked them six times - you know how much faith I have in her financial expertise...”

Nat says, “Mm hmm...she is really good.”

“And then,” adds Steve, “she dug into the files that Sitwell said were ‘official’ SAP downloads and found that those files had been altered to look official, even though they weren’t.”

Nat’s eyes widen as she takes another sip of her latte, which, for her, is a pretty dramatic reaction.

“Steve,” she says. “That’s fraud.”

“I thought so,” Steve says, leaning forward. “The question now, Nat, is what do we do? I’ve never dealt with this kind of situation before, even during some pretty dicey consulting projects. Is it criminal? Is it enough to torpedo the deal? Should we take it to Nick?”

“Oh, it’s criminal alright,” says Nat. “And it might be enough to stop the deal. The question, though, is whether it’s all that’s going on.”

“What do you mean?” Steve frowns in confusion. “What else could be going on?”

Nat is silent for a moment, and Steve takes the opportunity to take another drink of coffee. Given his sleep deprivation, he’s realizing that constant caffeine is the only way he’s going to make it through the day. (Not that he’s complaining about the reason for his late night or anything. In fact, his chest is light and he gets that funny feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks about Bucky.)

“You know how I think Rumlow’s been acting weird lately,” starts Nat. Steve nods. “If Sitwell is falsifying the financials on Rumlow’s orders, then we’ve got bigger problems within the company. Why is Rumlow so hot to get this deal done that he’d resort to lowballing our performance?”

“I said yesterday that maybe he just wants a big payout,” says Steve. “Like all the other major shareholders.”

“Yeah,” admits Nat. “But why not just wait for the deal? It’s not like our actual financials are that great. And he’d still get a big payout after the deal went through.”

Steve shrugs. “That’s a good question,” he says. “But how do we find out what else is happening at Shield? I mean, what are we even looking for?”

“Also a good question,” says Nat. “I don’t know. But if I could get a peek at Rumlow’s laptop, I wonder what I’d find.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “So we’d do something shady to find something shady? Can’t we just go to Nick now?”

Nat rolls her eyes and all but shakes her head sadly at Steve and his naïveté, just like she did when Fury said he’d do the same in Pierce’s place after the video conference call with Bucky last week.

_Bucky._ Steve has to work to hide a smile thinking about last night.

“We need more evidence and data before we go to Nick,” she says. “He’s going to ask the same questions I just did.” She gets up from the kitchen island.

“Let’s get into the office,” she says. “I have a meeting with Fury and the CMO later this morning and I want to fill Clint in first on developments.” She goes over to the wall near the entryway to pick up her briefcase. As she approaches the wall another image flashes into Steve’s mind.

_Bucky shrieking as Steve rips off his lavender shirt and then pressing their bare chests together and licking into Steve’s mouth..._

Steve goes pink as he remembers this and Nat looks at him curiously.

“Everything OK, Steve?” she says, arching one perfect eyebrow at him.

“Uh...yeah,” Steve replies, cursing his Irish heritage and complexion.

Nat tilts her head to assess whether she should pursue this subject. Steve knows that look, and moves quickly to preempt it.

“Really, Nat,” he insists. “I’m OK.” He hesitates. “You know, considering all this work drama.”

Nat decides to drop it. “OK,” she says briskly. “Let’s get going.”

As they leave his house, Steve exhales internally. Darcy is smart and knows him well, but Nat is also a friend and is twice as wily as Darcy...and twice as nosy. Eventually she’s going to come back to this topic, and Steve had better be prepared. He’d add this to his list of worries but part of him is still floating on air after last night. They head off down the street toward the subway.

*****

Later that day, Steve is sitting in his office going over some analysis from Darcy and his team and trying to figure out how to frame his meeting with Nick. He’s grabbed half an hour with Fury at five to give him an update on remaining options and figure out what if anything to tell him about the fake financials. Nat stopped by earlier after her meeting with Nick and is still not sure about filling Fury in on this development yet, but Steve feels that he needs to know so he can make an informed decision about what to do as CEO.

_BZZZZZ_

Steve grabs his phone and looks at his texts.

**Unknown Caller**

👔

Steve snorts out loud and then covers his mouth with his hand. He gets Bucky’s winking joke about the shirt, but no one else would, even if they saw it. He gets a warm feeling in his gut and feels like the living incarnation of the heart-eyes emoji. He feels so optimistic about him and Bucky, even though there’s a part of him that still worries how trustworthy he is...and that same part feels guilty for being so happy when things are so bad at Shield. He’s accepted that his life is basically a walking vat of contradictory feelings right now.

Suddenly his IM pings. It’s Nat, asking him to come to Fury’s office now, an hour before his scheduled meeting. Steve goes from moony to nervous in an instant. What is going on? Why does Nick want to talk him early?

“I think we’re gonna have to accept the deal, Steve,” says Fury without preamble when Steve arrives in his office five minutes later. “I’m getting increasing pressure from the Board to take it and not bother to go through the motions and the expense of a full shareholder meeting.”

“Who’s pressuring you? Rumlow?” Steve blurts out. Nat, sitting behind Fury next to his desk, shoots a _What the fuck, Rogers_ look at Steve because he’s such a disaster who can’t keep his mouth shut.

But Fury is so distracted right now that he just looks puzzled and says, “Brock? What? No, it’s mostly Rollins and Stern. But they’re being very persuasive with other Board members, and Brock keeps telling me the financials all point to taking the deal.”

Steve opens his mouth but, after a look from Nat that could kill at a hundred paces, he closes it again. Fury goes on.

“Do you have any other options for me, Rogers?” he asks. “Did you talk to Hill at SI?”

Steve shakes his head.

“She and Pepper are incommunicado in China,” he responds. “I left an urgent message with one of Pepper’s assistants but they’re not back ‘til this weekend.”

Fury exhales loudly.

“Well,” he says. “Looks like that was our last option.” He turns to Natasha. “I think we should set up that emergency Board meeting for tomorrow.”

“Wait, Nick.” Steve’s mouth blurts something out involuntarily for the second time in five minutes. Fury turns to him inquiringly. Nat looks at him warningly. Steve pauses and then figures out how to proceed.

“We’ve found something...weird...in our analysis yesterday,” Steve starts. “Can you hold off the Board for one more day so we can confirm or deny? I think it’s really important that everything is transparent and above board and... _correct_...before we go through with the deal.”

“Wait, Rogers, what are you telling me?” Fury says.

“It might be nothing,” Steve says hastily. “But we need to make sure it’s nothing. Can I brief you more fully tomorrow? We’ll have all the details by then.”

Fury looks intently at Steve for a few moments, then says, “OK, Rogers, I’ll see if I can hold off the Board, but I want to hear your full report tomorrow by lunchtime.”

“Thanks, Nick,” says Steve, almost sighing with relief. “I’ll definitely talk to you tomorrow.” He leaves Fury’s office and Nat follows him.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she says drily.

Steve laughs sarcastically. “Yeah, me too,” he says. “Keep hoping.” Nat rolls her eyes and is quiet for a minute. Then she says, “Call Darcy to the executive conference room. I’m gonna get Clint and we’ll thrash this out, the four of us.”

Steve, Darcy, Nat, and Clint meet in the conference room ten minutes later. They don’t project anything for fear of someone walking by and seeing Darcy’s numbers, but they all crowd around her laptop as she takes them all through her analysis showing Sitwell’s fakery. After an hour, they’re exhausted and their eyes hurt. Darcy is on her fourth venti cold brew of the day. Steve has switched to tea. He’s hurting after his late night but he knows he needs to stay alert.

“Well,” Clint says. “I’m convinced. The question is...what are we going to do? What can we do? I think Nat’s right that we might need more evidence before we go back to Fury.” He reaches out for his latte, almost knocks it over, and then manages to grab it before it spills.

“I don’t know,” sighs Steve. “We probably do need more evidence, but I’m not sure how we get it, short of hijacking Rumlow’s or Sitwell’s laptops.”

“I mean...I could definitely hijack those laptops,” says Nat with a wolffish expression. “But Mr. Integrity over here says that’s not cool.” She jerks her head toward Steve, who rolls his eyes.

“I just think there should be another way to do this...” he starts. A movement outside the conference room catches the corner of his eye and he looks out the window. Rumlow is standing in the shadows, staring intensely in at them. A wave of coldness passes over Steve and he freezes up. Then he grabs his tea.

“You guys,” he hisses. “Brock is right outside and he looks suspicious. Act natural.” 

“Shit,” mutters Nat. “OK, let’s break this up and think about ways to address this issue. But don’t talk to *anyone* else.”

“You got it, boss,” says Clint with a goofy smile. They gather up their stuff and head for the door of the conference room. Steve steels himself to be cool when he interacts with Rumlow in the corridor, but by the time they leave the room, he’s gone.

*****

An hour later, sitting at his desk, Steve hears the buzz of a text.

**Unknown Caller**

_National. Asap_

*****

Steve opens the door of The National and enters the building. It’s September and the New York days are still warm but this evening there’s a chill in the air and he’s glad for the warmth inside the restaurant. When he gets inside he attempts to be casual looking around for Bucky. It’s half an hour after he got Bucky’s text and he doubts he’s beaten Bucky here, but he doesn’t immediately see him at the bar or a nearby table.

He’s trying not to panic but he’s got a leaden, sinking feeling in his gut. Have they been found out? Is Bucky in trouble? Is Bucky going to try to use their new and fragile relationship to force this deal through? Steve hates that last thought but he has to admit it’s a possibility. He wants so much to trust Bucky but he knows Bucky can be weak and easily tempted into taking the easier way out.

As Steve approaches the hostess stand, she smiles at him. He’s not sure what to say, wanting to find Bucky but also wishing to protect his privacy, so he smiles back and says, “Uhhh...”

_Very smooth, Rogers. Use your words._

“Uhhh,” Steve says again. “I’m looking for a friend...he probably got here a little while ago...”

The hostess looks like a literal lightbulb has gone off over her head and she smiles even bigger and says, “Oh yes.” She turns and points to a booth hidden out of sight from the stand and the outer windows. “He asked me to send you back there.”

Oh shit.

Steve bites back the dread and thanks the hostess warmly. She actually blushes a bit as she says, “You’re welcome.” He hurries back to the booth.

Bucky is there, curled up in the corner. There are two drinks on the table, right next to each other, and a bowl of bar snacks. Bucky outwardly appears his usual dapper self, in a light grey double-breasted suit, pink shirt, and burgundy and pink tie. But as he raises his face to Steve, Steve notices that his eyes are dull and sunken and his normally perfect hair is tousled.

“Buck,” says Steve worriedly, sliding into the booth across from him. Bucky looks at him and is clearly going to try to tough things out, but his face crumples and he pats the seat next to him. Steve immediately moves to the other side of the table, slides in, and takes Bucky in his arms. Bucky’s not crying but he is shaking, and Steve holds him fast and firm, stroking his hair and whispering comforting words into his ear.

After a few minutes Bucky regains his composure and sits up. His face is white and the corners of his eyes are tight.

“Thanks, Stevie,” he says softly. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Buck,” Steve says in a reassuring tone. He picks up the bourbon and hands it to Bucky. “Here, have some of this.”

Bucky takes a long sip and Steve mirrors his actions with the other glass. When Bucky pulls the glass away from his lips he winces and Steve notices the bruise on the corner of his mouth and a split in his bottom lip with a minuscule trickle of dried blood that’s stopped on the way down toward his chin.

At this observation all of Steve’s protective instincts light up at once and it takes every ounce of self-control he has to keep his composure.

“Buck,” he says sharply. “What’s going on. Talk to me.” He makes an effort to soften his voice. “Please talk to me, Buck. What happened.”

Bucky takes a deep shuddering breath and looks at Steve.

“An hour or two ago,” he says, “Pierce called me into his office. He was frustrated because I haven’t been able to force the deal through yet...”

“What the fuck,” says Steve, quietly but urgently. “The shareholder meeting is in less than a week. It’s almost a sure thing at this point. What’s the hurry?” In the back of Steve’s mind he wonders if it’s problematic to admit this but right now he’s just trying to be there for Bucky.

“I know,” says Bucky miserably. “But he’s really impatient about it for some reason. He kept saying the deal had to be done now.” He stops and takes another drink.

“I told him I was doing my best to convince Shield management to settle this early without actually resorting to illegal or unethical tactics,” Bucky continues. “But he wouldn’t listen and got angrier and angrier. Then all of a sudden he switched topics and asked me why I was in Brooklyn last night. Blindsided me.”

Steve takes a little gasping inhale. “Holy shit,” he murmurs. Bucky manages a faint smile.

“Yeah, that was my thought too,” he says wryly, a little of the old Bucky bravado glimmering through. “I kept my cool and said I was just having dinner with a friend.”

“Wait, how’d he know you were in Brooklyn?” Steve demands, fire in his eyes. “Is he fucking spying on you?”

Bucky shrugs. “It looks that way,” he says, frowning. “I’d guess he’s getting intel through my driver. Probably paying him off somehow.” Steve purses his lips and thinks of a few choice words for the shadowy figure in the front of the Mercedes.

“Anyway,” Bucky continues. “He asked me several times who I was with, and I just said ‘a friend.’ He was so worked up. Then his phone buzzed with a text and he looked at it and turned bright red.”

“What’d it say?” asks Steve urgently.

“I dunno, he kept the screen pointed away from me,” Bucky says. “And then...” he pauses, and starts to shake again. “And then he backhanded me in the face and said I needed to get the deal done tomorrow or I was done at Hydra.”

“Wait...he...what?” Steve’s brain is shorting out and the only reason he isn’t absolutely incandescent with rage right now is because he can’t really make sense of what he’s hearing.

“He hit me in the face,” whispers Bucky. “Split my lip. I think it’s OK now.” But he’s still shaking.

“I...will...END him,” growls Steve, clenching his hands into fists. He feels the mama bear instinct surge through his entire body and has to bite back the urge to get up and find Pierce RIGHT NOW and pound him into jelly.

“No, no, Steve! No,” babbles Bucky fearfully. “It’ll be OK, I just need to work harder and get this deal done and things will be OK.” Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Bucky, you need to get out of there,” he says as gently as he can given how wound up he is. “No amount of money is worth this. And you need to press charges against Pierce - assaulting an employee is not acceptable behavior for anyone.”

“No, no, I can’t,” says Bucky, shaking his head. “I can’t press charges, it’s too dangerous. He’d ruin me. He’s capable of anything.” He runs his hand through his already disheveled hair and looks at Steve.

“I’m just so scared, Stevie,” he says frankly. “No one’s hit me since...” and in an instant his eyes well up and his face crumples and he’s crying. Bucky, who’s never cried in his life.

Steve’s heart melts and he pulls Bucky gently to his chest. “Oh my sweetheart, I know, I’ve got you, Buck,” he says against Bucky’s hair. “I’m here. I’m with you. Let it go.”

Bucky cries and cries, not loudly but intensely, sobbing against Steve for several minutes until he wears himself out. The front of Steve’s dress shirt now sports a noticeable damp spot. Bucky leans heavily against Steve, who holds him tight and sends him all the warmth and support and comfort he can through where their bodies meet.

Steve’s heart aches for Bucky and he vigorously wishes he could make all this go away - Hydra, Shield, the deal, the stupid business world - make it so it’s just him and Bucky, together. And right now, in this booth, it is just them, together, and Steve is just here, being present for Bucky.

When Bucky finally sits up and looks at Steve, his face is pink and blotchy and his eyes are red and tears stain his cheeks and his nose is running, and he looks so fucking beautiful that Steve’s heart constricts in his chest.

“I’m so tired, Steve,” mutters Bucky, a hopeless note in his voice. Steve kisses him gently on the cheek, tasting the salt of his tears.

“I know, Buck,” he whispers. “Here.”

He fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to Bucky, who looks at it and then back at Steve and says, “Of course you’ve got a fuckin handkerchief, Rogers.” Steve smiles as Bucky blows his nose.

Steve steps back mentally and assesses the situation. Outside everything’s a mess and they’re in a huge pile of shit, but right here, right now he needs to pay attention to his...boyfriend? Lover? Bucky? Yeah. His Bucky. He calls a server over and orders entrees and big glasses of water and ginger ale for them. They’ll deal with...everything...soon enough, but right now he needs to focus on taking care of Bucky and his basic needs.

*****

Dinner helps. Bucky obviously hasn’t eaten in a while and he attacks his steak, potato, and roasted vegetables like a starving animal. He gives Steve a rasher of crap for ordering them ginger ales (“What are we, Stevie, fuckin school kids stayin home sick?”) but nevertheless sucks his down in huge gulps. Steve just smiles and eats his burger like a man who knows the value of sugar and hydration after a big emotional blowout.

At the end of the meal, Bucky leans back and pats his mouth with his napkin. He winces.

“Fuck, that hurts,” he mutters. Steve feels _Mama Bear: The Sequel_ start to play out in his head and leans forward to inspect Bucky’s lip.

“It’s opened up again, Buck,” he says, trying to stay matter-of-fact while various emotions churn around with the burger in his stomach. “Lemme pay for the food and then let’s hit the men’s room to check things out.” Bucky starts to smile at the mention of the men’s room but stops when it hurts his lip.

In the men’s room, Steve pulls Bucky into the light near the mirror to examine him. There’s a bruise on his cheek near the corner of his mouth, his lip is puffy and split, and a little blood is pooling around the cut. A wave of heat runs through Steve as he imagines leaning over to lick off that drop of blood, but restrains himself, especially as it wouldn’t be fun for Bucky. He does turn pink, though.

Bucky notices and the other corner of his mouth turns up.

“Getcher mind outta the gutter, Rogers,” he drawls. “You’re supposed to be takin care of me.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You’re fine, Barnes” he says sarcastically. But he grabs a paper towel, runs it under cold water, and presses it to Bucky’s face. Bucky hisses and squirms a bit.

“Ssshhh, stay still, Barnes, ya big baby,” Steve says, keeping the towel pressed to Bucky’s mouth. After a minute or two he leans in to see how things look. The bleeding has stopped and the swelling is down a bit. Steve nods and then makes the mistake of looking up into Bucky’s eyes. His gaze is a heady mixture of intensity, worry, vulnerability, and...some other, deeper emotion that Steve never thought he’d see from Bucky Barnes. Steve could happily drown in this look. He lets the towel drop from Bucky’s face and keeps his eyes locked on him.

As if in slow motion Bucky leans forward and gently touches his lips to Steve’s. They’re a bit cold from the compress and so so soft. The kiss stays gentle for a minute...an hour?...a week? and Steve pours all his feelings into it, telling Bucky without words how worried he is for him, how much he wants to protect him, how much he needs him.

The mood is broken when Bucky tries to take the kiss more passionate and immediately pulls back with an “Ow!” Steve laughs and feels all the tension leave his body. He throws the wet paper towel in the trash.

“Jesus, you’re a mess, Buck,” he chuckles. Bucky tries to regain his composure.

“Well, what does it say about you that you’re hangin out with such a mess, Stevie,” he retorts, holding his hand over his injured cheek.

“Oh, I never pretended I *wasn’t* a mess, Buck,” says Steve, and gathers Bucky to him in a tender hug. Bucky hugs him back and starts to bury his face into Steve’s shoulder but then groans as his bruises make contact with Steve’s impressive deltoids.

“Let’s go to Duane Reade and get you some pain meds,” says Steve gently, rubbing Bucky’s back. “I have some Advil in my laptop bag but I left that in the office when I came to meet you earlier.”

“OK,” whines Bucky. “Maybe an ice pack too.”

Steve chuckles again. “A total mess,” he says fondly as they walk out.

At the Duane Reade they get some Advil and a Vitamin Water and Steve makes Bucky take some pills right outside the store. His protective urges have flared up again and now that he’s made sure Bucky is OK his brain is working furiously, trying to figure out what to do about Pierce and Bucky’s position at Hydra. They’re walking back down the street when Steve hesitantly brings up the subject again.

“Buck,” he says slowly. “What I said earlier about Pierce and Hydra...” Instantly he can feel Bucky’s defenses go up.

“Steve, let’s not talk about it,” Bucky says sharply. “I can handle things myself. Everything will be fine next week once the deal is done.”

At this, Steve gets frustrated and is briefly tempted to tell Bucky about the wonky Shield financials to prove to him that everything *won’t* be fine. But that’s very dicey territory in an already very dicey situation so he keeps his mouth shut. He turns things back to Bucky’s well-being.

“But Buck, I’m worried about you,” he says gently. “About your safety.”

“I’ll be fine, Steve,” Bucky insists. “I can handle that...OH SHIT.”

This last remark is made in a panicked hiss and Bucky suddenly grabs Steve and pulls him into a dark alcove next to a lighted restaurant. Steve is bewildered but then he follows Bucky’s gaze toward the entrance of the restaurant...

...and sees Pierce and Rumlow exiting the building, talking in low tones. Steve and Bucky can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s obvious they know each other.

“That’s Pierce,” whispers Bucky, clutching Steve’s arm.

“Yeah, and that’s Rumlow,” says Steve in a low tone.

“Yeah, I know,” says Bucky. “But...they don’t know each other...do they?”

“It looks like they do,” mutters Steve, as they move toward a black chauffeured Bentley idling on the street. At the door of the car, Pierce turns toward Rumlow. Steve and Bucky couldn’t hear what they were saying before, but what he says next carries across the sidewalk.

“Just stay calm,” says Pierce in a commanding voice. “It’ll all be over soon. No need to worry. I’ll take care of things on my end.”

Rumlow nods and responds with something they can’t make out. Then he turns and starts walking west. Pierce gets in the car and it pulls smoothly away from the curb.

Once Pierce and Rumlow are out of sight, Steve and Bucky come out of the alcove and look at each other incredulously.

“I don’t understand,” says Bucky, shaking his head. “I know I told you Rumlow was shady, but that was just because my analysis of his financials kept coming up with weird anomalies.”

With this statement, everything comes into focus for Steve and he thinks he understands at least some of what’s going on. He looks at Bucky and makes a decision.

“Buck,” Steve says urgently. “This explains a lot. Rumlow’s been acting strange lately, swearing loyalty to Fury one minute and pushing him to take the deal the next.” He hesitates for a moment, then goes on.

“My group found ‘anomalies,’ as you call them, in Rumlow’s Board-report financials yesterday. They’re...different from our SAP numbers,” Steve says. “I was meeting with a few people to discuss the altered numbers late this afternoon...and then I saw Rumlow spying on us.”

Bucky inhales sharply. “When was this,” he demands.

“About quarter to six,” Steve answers. “We broke up the meeting right after that.”

“Pierce and I were meeting right then,” says Bucky slowly. “He got that text that made him so mad right before six.”

“Do you think...it was from Rumlow?” asks Steve, like he still can’t believe it.

“It makes sense, if they’re fixing this together,” says Bucky bitterly. “I was keeping everything above board...I mean, you know, applying pressure to try to convince people to take the deal, but nothing actually illegal.” He looks at Steve with his signature crooked smile.

“Actually,” he continues, cocking an eyebrow. “The only really shady thing I’ve been doing is fraternizing with you.”

Steve snorts out an ironic laugh. “That’s been pretty shady,” he agrees. “But listen, Buck, now you really can’t go back to Hydra, it’s too dangerous. Even beyond Pierce hitting you, which is still fucking assault by the way, there could be all kinds of criminal stuff happening there. Please don’t go back.” He grabs Bucky by the arms for emphasis.

“No, Steve, I gotta go back,” says Bucky, his gaze turning steely. “I need to check on all my documentation and analysis, make sure it’s all above board. And find whatever’s not above board.”

“No, Buck, let’s wait, let’s go to the authorities,” pleads Steve. “They can deal with this, and then you won’t be involved.”

“Oh, I’m involved anyway,” says Bucky, frowning. He looks Steve square in the eyes. “I gotta do this, Steve, I gotta have some courage and face things here.”

Steve’s heart freezes at the sight of Bucky’s grim, resolved face and is about to argue more but realizes that he’s not going to convince him otherwise. He sighs and drops his arms.

“OK, Buck,” he says reluctantly. “But listen, please be careful. Don’t do anything foolish. I’m worried about you and I...I...”

He pauses. He wants to say _I love you_ but the words still won’t come. “You mean a lot to me,” he says.

Bucky looks at him and some of his old bravado returns. “You mean a lot to me too, Rogers,” he says with a smirk. Then quick as a wink he leans in to kiss Steve on the mouth.

“You might not hear from me for a bit,” Bucky says. “And don’t try to call or text my private phone.”

“Why not?” asks Steve, not wanting to cut off his only communication with Bucky.

“Because if it’s criminal I don’t want you involved in any of it,” says Bucky. “And because...” he pulls the phone out of his pocket, drops it on the ground, and crushes the screen under his heel. “...it’s no longer in service.” He picks up the phone carcass and drops it in a nearby garbage can. Then he turns and gives Steve an ironic salute.

“See you on the other side,” Bucky says, and walks quickly off.

Steve stands there watching him leave for a minute, awash in a sea of conflicting emotions. For an instant he’s strongly tempted to run down the street after Bucky and convince him to just leave, to run away together and lie on the beach in fucking Aruba or something. Then his more rational side kicks in and he realizes they need to face this threat and fight it. He clenches his fists tight and pulls himself together, and heads down the street to the subway. On the way he texts Nat and Clint to meet him at his house in Brooklyn in an hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: There aren’t really booths per se in The National, at least not high-backed booths you can hide in, but needs must for plot purposes. 
> 
> They have awesome burgers at The National, two thumbs up. 
> 
> Duane Reade is a drugstore chain in New York, with stores all over the place.


	6. Hit the Bottom and Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mind conjures the image of Bucky last night, curled up in the booth at The National, a cheek bruise and a split lip marring his perfect beauty. He tries hard not to conjure up any more disturbing images of the man he loves. If Pierce can viciously slap down his best employee just because he’s frustrated, what might he do if he finds out that employee is trying to uncover criminal practices at Hydra? 
> 
> Steve closes his eyes to ward off those images, and forces his mind back into the present. 
> 
> “You OK?” Nat looks at him curiously but not unkindly. She may be nosy, but Steve knows she truly cares about him. He shakes his head as if to fend off bad thoughts, but then realizes Nat could take this move as a negative and looks at her.
> 
> “Yeah, yeah, I’m OK,” Steve insists. “Sorry. I...got distracted for a second. I’m ready.” 
> 
> Nat appraises him for a minute, as if deciding whether to pry or not. Then she tosses her perfect hair, smooths down her dress, and says, “Alright, let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief references to past violence and descriptions of imagined violence

“You ready, Steve?”

Steve looks up from his laptop and sees Nat standing in his office doorway. She’s wearing a red and black color block dress and black stilettos and looks both sensational and like she’s ready to kill someone. Clint trails behind her, a bit subdued, his expression neutral.

It’s Friday, the day after Steve found out Pierce had assaulted Bucky and they saw Pierce and Rumlow together. Steve, Nat, and Clint are all in the office. They had an informal emergency meeting at Steve’s house in Brooklyn later last night at his request. He told Nat and Clint about seeing Pierce and Rumlow together, and what Pierce said before he got in his limo.

Steve didn’t mention Bucky at all, just said that he saw Pierce and Rumlow himself while walking down 51st from Third Avenue. He knows that Nat, with her insatiable curiosity, is still wondering today why he’d be walking around that part of midtown by himself. He makes a mental note to tell her he needed to stop at Duane Reade before going home if she asks any more awkward questions. But he really hopes she’ll restrain herself and won’t ask any more awkward questions.

Steve says hesitantly, “Yeah, I guess so.”

After Steve told Nat and Clint about what happened the night before, Nat was more adamant than ever that they needed to get hold of Rumlow’s laptop. She argues that Rumlow’s laptop is company property and not private, so they have a right to take a look at it.

Steve still isn’t sure that this is the right thing to do, but his convictions have gotten weaker and weaker, especially in the face of his worry about Bucky and his safety. That anxiety sits in Steve’s gut like a ball of lead. He can’t get in touch with Bucky now that Bucky has destroyed his burner phone, and he is praying that he’s OK.

His mind conjures the image of Bucky last night, curled up in the booth at The National, a cheek bruise and a split lip marring his perfect beauty. He tries hard not to conjure up any more disturbing images of the man he loves. If Pierce can viciously slap down his best employee just because he’s frustrated, what might he do if he finds out that employee is trying to uncover criminal practices at Hydra?

Steve closes his eyes to ward off those images, and forces his mind back into the present.

“You OK?” Nat looks at him curiously but not unkindly. She may be nosy, but Steve knows she truly cares about him. He shakes his head as if to fend off bad thoughts, but then realizes Nat could take this move as a negative and looks at her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m OK,” Steve insists. “Sorry. I...got distracted for a second. I’m ready.”

Nat appraises him for a minute, as if deciding whether to pry or not. Then she tosses her perfect hair, smooths down her dress, and says, “Alright, let’s do this.”

Steve comes and stands next to her, and she sticks her finger in his face. Even in her four-inch stilettos she’s barely taller than his shoulder, but Steve is still well aware that she could easily kick his ass across town. “But after all this, Rogers, we are gonna have a loooooong talk.”

Steve exhales, runs his hand through his hair, and gives her a lopsided smile.

“Nat,” he says frankly. “If we make it through all this bullshit, I’ll buy you drinks and dinner and talk to you all night.”

Nat smiles, a real smile that reaches her eyes. “Gonna hold you to that, Rogers.” They walk down the hall with Clint and make their plan of attack on Rumlow and his laptop.

*****

“Hey Brock, you got a minute?”

Steve knocks on Brock’s open office door with one hand and holds his open laptop in the other. He notices Rumlow’s momentary annoyance as he looks up before Rumlow rearranges his expression into something more acceptably polite for the office. Steve feels a surge of anger in his chest when he thinks about Brock’s betrayal, but he manages to keep his face and demeanor pleasant and professional.

“Sure, Rogers,” Rumlow says in a voice with a slight tinge of impatience that only someone who was listening for it would hear. Someone like Steve. “What’s up.” It is not a question.

“My team was working on some projections,” says Steve in a “sincere rube” kind of voice, “And I wanted to get your feedback on one of the options Nick is gonna present next week at the shareholder forum. We tweaked it a little from yesterday.”

“OK,” says Rumlow, obviously trying hard not to roll his eyes. “But I’ve only got ten minutes before my next meeting.”

“Great,” says Steve, entering the office and pulling up a screen on his laptop. He raises his voice just a little so it carries into the hall. “This’ll only take five, I promise, it’s just your signoff on language around the financials...” He puts his computer down on Brock’s desk.

_Three...two...one..._

_CRASH_

A huge noise erupts outside between Rumlow’s office and his assistant’s desk. Steve makes sure to look surprised at the right moment, even though he knows this has been coming. Rumlow startles and jumps a little in his chair. Then he looks suspiciously at Steve.

“What the fuck was that,” he says.

“No idea,” says Steve, but gets up to look outside and check. Then he looks back at Rumlow.

“Oh shit,” Steve says urgently. “It’s Clint.”

“What the fuck did Barton do now,” says Brock in an annoyed tone, standing up.

“He’s down...he’s hurt...” says Steve in a panicked voice. “And Brock...your display case...”

“What the fuck!” Mention of the display case motivates Rumlow to actually leave his office. Brock is big on Japanese culture and especially samurai warrior antiques, and he’s installed a fancy glass case in the foyer outside his office to display two of his prized katana swords, which he claims were made in the seventeenth century.

Now the display case and custom shelf and wall mount lie in pieces on the floor, and Clint is sitting among the ruins and holding his hand, which is bleeding profusely.

“Hey Brock,” Clint says weakly, looking up at the two men. “I was coming to see you and then all of a sudden I stepped wrong on my cast and grabbed at the case in a panic...I’m so sorry.”

Rumlow’s face turns red. “My swords!” He yells. He rushes forward and kneels down to inspect his precious antiques, with no concern for Clint. His back is to his office door. Steve is kneeling sideways and manages out of the corner of his eye to just catch a red-and-black blur dart into Brock’s office from a nearby alcove.

Once Rumlow confirms his swords are undamaged, he turns on Clint.

“Oh my god, Barton,” he snarls. “I always knew you were a fuckin klutz but this is fucken ridiculous. What the fuck is the matter with you.”

“I’m really sorry, Brock,” says Clint, running his bleeding hand across his face and through his hair and managing to make himself look like even more of a disaster than he already is.

“Hey, Brock, take it easy,” says Steve, trying to sound reasonable. “Accidents happen. It looks like your swords are OK, but we should make sure Clint isn’t badly hurt.” He pulls out a clean handkerchief and leans into Clint.

“Clint, buddy, let’s get you cleaned up and make sure you’re alright,” Steve says in a soothing voice. Clint leans forward over Brock’s arm to take the handkerchief in his bleeding hand.

“Hey, watch it, Barton, this is a three-thousand-dollar jacket,” bellows Rumlow, pulling his arm back.

_What a fucken prince,_ thinks Steve sarcastically to himself. _Cares more about his fucken suit and some old pieces of metal than someone’s well-being. How did I ever even think he was a decent guy._

“I’m so sorry, Brock,” mumbles Clint again, taking the handkerchief and still managing to get a drop of blood on Brock’s jacket.

Serves you right, asshole, thinks Steve with some satisfaction.

Brock sees it and yells “FUCK!” and then turns on Clint. “You’re totally going to pay me for a new case. And my fucken dry cleaning bill.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Steve hastily. “Of course he’ll pay for the damage, right, Clint?”

“Of course,” says Clint, who gets to his knees and then stops and sways. “Oof. Feelin a little woozy.”

“Oh shit,” says Steve and turns to Rumlow. “Will you please help me get him up? There’s a first aid kit in the conference room just down the hall.”

Rumlow is clearly about to refuse and try to head back to his office, but he looks at Steve’s face, emblazoned with a perfect mix of righteousness and challenge, raised eyebrow and everything, and decides that that’s a step too far toward total assholery.

“OK,” he grumbles. “But I’m not touching all that blood.”

“Fine,” says Steve, and gently braces Clint’s wounded arm. A patch of blood stains Steve’s sport coat and he smiles inwardly at the story he’s going to have to make up when he takes it to Mr. Lung at his dry cleaner in Brooklyn Heights.

Rumlow takes his other arm ungraciously and they shuffle slowly down to the conference room. As they enter the room, Steve sees another red-and-black blur retreat from Brock’s office and can’t help but be impressed. He had no idea Nat was so stealthy, though he knows she’s a woman of many hidden talents. He also resolves to ask her how she got Rumlow’s assistant out of the picture; her desk has been conveniently empty this whole time.

As soon as they get Clint in a chair, Steve turns to Rumlow.

“Thanks for your help, Brock,” he says, trying to look at him kindly. “I can take it from here. Military training and all that.” Rumlow swivels on his heel and is about to stalk out of the conference room when he stops and looks back at Steve.

“You need to get your laptop out of my office,” he snaps. “I have a meeting right now.”

“Sure, sure,” says Steve, and turns to Clint to say, “Hold on, Clint, I’ll be right back.” He follows Brock back down the hall to his office. As he grabs his laptop off the desk, he notes that nothing looks disturbed at all and once again he’s impressed with Nat and her abilities.

“I’ll catch you later about that financial language, Brock,” Steve says. “And I’ll get the janitorial staff to clean up the mess outside.”

“I’m busy ‘til three-thirty,” says Rumlow. “And Barton should clean up that mess, he fucken made it.” He strides down the hall in the other direction as Steve returns to the conference room.

Clint has cleaned his hand up quite a bit with the handkerchief and first aid kit by the time Steve meets him at the conference table, but his face is still streaked with gore.

“Are you OK?” Steve says in a low voice, sitting in the neighboring chair and reaching out for Clint’s hand. “I mean, I knew you were going to break the case but I didn’t realize there’d be that much blood.”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine” says Clint airily. “I mean, I *did* cut my hand a bit to make it look realistic, but I did that with my Swiss Army knife. The rest of this is fake blood from the Halloween shop on Fourth Avenue. I took out the case with my foot.” He holds up his injured ankle with the plastic soft cast on it.

Steve grins. “Oh my god, you sly bastard,” he says, chucking Clint affectionately on the shoulder.

Clint grins back. “Well, it did create a good diversion. Did you see Nat?”

“Just barely,” Steve shakes his head. “Where did she learn all the cloak and dagger skills?”

Clint just keeps grinning, a gleam in his eye. “That’s classified, Rogers,” he says. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Of course it is,” he says. “Let’s go wipe that goop off your face in the men’s room before we meet Nat, so no one sees you and freaks out.”

*****

Steve and Clint catch up with Nat in Clint’s office twenty minutes later. They chose Clint’s office as their rendezvous because it’s got a clear line of sight from both directions and it’s the farthest from Rumlow’s lair. It’s also the biggest space with the most comfortable chairs; Clint isn’t concerned with high-status items like antique samurai swords, but he is considerate about others’ needs and wants. It’s another reason Steve likes him so much.

“Hey Nat,” says Steve as he and Clint enter. Clint is mostly all cleaned up but he’s still got a big red stain on his dress shirt from all the “blood.” They tried to wash it out in the bathroom to no avail so Clint has rolled up his sleeves to try to hide it.

However, Natasha notices immediately as they walk in, looks pointedly at Clint, and raises one immaculate eyebrow. She, of course, doesn’t sport a hair out of place and you’d never know that she just pulled a commando raid on a defended fortress down the hall.

“You used extra fake blood, didn’t you,” she comments drily.

“Well, it had to look suitably dramatic and gory,” Clint says in a mildly defensive voice. But his eyes are twinkling. Nat rolls her eyes.

“Oh my god, you are a five-year-old,” she says, coming over to punch him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Clint whines. “That’s the arm with my cut hand.” He turns to Steve and winks.

“Definitely a kindergartener,” says Nat in the closest she’ll ever get to a groan.

Steve shakes his head. These two. He’s amused by their chatter but still a bit twitchy, and not just because of the stress of creating their diversion with Rumlow.

As he was cleaning up Clint’s face in the bathroom, he had another nightmare vision of Bucky’s cut lip, only this time there were also bruises and blood all over his face from multiple blows. He barely held it together then and he’s not much better now. His heart is in agony from not knowing what’s happening with Bucky. A wave of heated fear passes through his midsection.

Nat looks at Steve, concerned.

“You OK?” she says in a gentle voice. Steve looks at her and comes back to the situation at hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. _Divert, divert._ “Just still sweating adrenaline from that whole...thing.” He shakes out his arms and torso a bit.

“God, Rumlow, though,” Steve continues. “Never realized he was that much of an asshole.”

“I did,” says Nat, putting her laptop on Clint’s desk and sitting in a guest chair. Steve follows her lead.

“You always want to believe the best of people, Rogers,” comments Clint, sitting down at his desk and propping up his ankle on a stool. “It’s one of the things I like about you, man.”

Steve gives him a warm but apologetic smile. He likes this trait about himself too, but he suspects it hasn’t helped him much, if at all, in the corporate world.

“How did you get Madison out of there?” Steve asks Nat. Rumlow’s assistant was conspicuously absent during their entire caper. Nat’s lip curls up and her eyes gleam.

“Got her tickets to the _Late Night_ taping at 30 Rock today,” she says mischievously. “BTS is playing. She took a last-minute PTO day.”

Steve’s mouth drops open a little in admiration. He, too, knows that Madison is a massive BTS fan and had wanted those tickets but they were already sold out. How did Nat get them? Obviously her talents extend way beyond silently infiltrating offices to access confidential computer files.

“Niiiice,” he says, impressed, and turns to Clint, who looks prouder than punch.

“So anyway,” says Nat briskly, leaning forward and logging into her laptop. “I uploaded all of Rumlow’s Documents folder to a secure cloud site.” She catches Steve’s raised eyebrow and adds, “Not a Shield site, there’s no trail back to our work IPs.” Her fingers dance over the keyboard as she’s talking.

“There was another locked folder that was hidden in the recesses of his C drive,” Nat continues. It took a little doing but I managed to access it and uploaded it as well. Hold on a minute,” she says, bringing up an app that Steve doesn’t recognize and logging in. “Just gonna sweep all these files to make sure there aren’t any nasty surprises waiting for us.”

“Nasty surprises?” inquires Steve, leaning forward to watch Nat work.

“Sometimes if you don’t want people to access your stuff,” says Nat, clicking through some intro screens, “you can set files to permanently delete and then leave viruses or malware on the interested party’s equipment and software as an extra sort of ‘fuck you.’” She smiles tightly at Steve.

“And we don’t want that,” she says, hitting a button. Steve watches, fascinated, as the program cycles through hundreds of files in seconds. As it nears completion, a red alarm icon appears and the laptop dings a warning note.

“Uh huh,” says Nat, typing a command. “Just as I thought.”

“It was that locked folder, wasn’t it,” says Clint idly from across the desk.

“Yep,” says Nat, popping the “p.” “Dismantling the booby trap now.” The app cycles through for a few more seconds and then a green light comes on.

“OK,” she says. “All set.”

“You’re sure?” Steve says sharply. “It would suck if your laptop melted down and took the Shield servers with it.”

“Pretty sure,” Nat says airily. Steve looks at Clint for confirmation.

“She created that app,” Clint says to Steve in a stage whisper from behind his hand. “Go with her on this one.” One side of Nat’s mouth crooks up as she hears this.

“Ah,” Steve manages to stumble out. “Got it.” He knows Nat has an...interesting...past and has long suspected Nat’s talents are many and varied, and today is bearing out those suspicions.

“Let’s start with that locked folder which is now no longer locked,” says Nat, clicking through to open some files. She starts skimming them and after thirty seconds her mouth drops open a little and she says, “Holy shit.”

Steve has never, ever seen her shocked or at a loss before so he’s a little nervous to ask. But he puts on his big boy pants and says, “What?” anyway. Nat doesn’t answer for a few seconds, but opens up some more files. Then she looks up at the two men.

“It’s all here,” she says, exhaling audibly. “Communications between Pierce and Rumlow for the last six months or more, on a secret server that’s not connected to either Hydra or Shield.” She turns her laptop around to show them. “Here’s an email with instructions on how to lowball the financials but make them look SAP- and auditor-approved.”

“So Darcy was absolutely correct,” interrupts Steve.

“Uh huh,” says Nat, turning her computer back around, eyes locked on the screen. “And here’s one with an attachment containing the proposed new Shield org structure that has Rumlow as CEO and Sitwell as CFO, with big signing bonuses for both of them.”

She clicks some more. “And this one tells Rumlow when to buy more Shield shares at a relatively low price so he can benefit the most from the takeover announcement. That’s from four months ago.” She peers at the screen and opens another communication.

“And this one tells Rumlow that if he can convince the Board to vote for the deal without going to the full shareholders,” she says, “Pierce’ll throw in an extra five million in salary in Brock’s first five years as CEO. That was two weeks ago.”

Steve is silent. He’s shocked at what he’s hearing. He doesn’t know much about corporate law but he’s pretty sure there’s collusion and insider trading here, and probably a whole host of other white collar crimes to boot. Again he feels anger course through him over Rumlow’s betrayal.

But that anger is nothing compared to how he feels thinking about Bucky last night, and how Pierce bullied him to get the deal done early and then assaulted him. Bucky gets abused for not doing illegal stuff, and Rumlow will get rewarded. There’s a roaring in his ears and a wave of heat passes down from his face through his entire body. He has to grip his chair hard to keep himself from standing up, finding Brock, and beating him to a pulp.

“Hey Steve, you OK?” Clint’s voice cuts through his thoughts. He looks up and realizes both Nat and Clint are staring at him in concern. He dislodges his hands from the chair arms and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Steve says in as casual a voice as he can muster right now. “I’m just...so shocked. This is really bad. I mean...right? This is really bad?”

“Yeah,” says Clint, shaking his head. “It’s really bad.”

“So...” says Steve, trying to pick his words carefully. “It looks like at least Rumlow and Sitwell are implicated on the Shield side. I guess we assume that James Barnes is involved in...all this?...on the Hydra side?” He attempts a cool voice but it wobbles just a little as he says Bucky’s name.

Nat looks at him and cocks her head slightly to the side, appraising. Then she turns back to the laptop and says, “Let me run a search.” She types a little and only one item pops up.

“Barnes is only mentioned in one email,” she says, her eyes scanning across the screen. “Late last week. Rumlow was concerned about things going south, and Pierce responds by saying they can shift all the blame onto Barnes if anything happens. Here,” she says, reading aloud, “‘I’ve got a whole set of fake documents with Barnes’ name attached that we can use if the deal implodes, so he’ll take the fall if needed.’”

Another, bigger wave of rage courses through Steve’s veins and he looks down at his lap. He thinks of Bucky last week and on Sunday night, so ambitious and hopeful about being made a Hydra partner and making it big. He thinks of him on Wednesday night, confident and sexy, lying under Steve and reveling in their lovemaking. And then he thinks of him last night, battered and scared, and heading back into the office to face his fears and uncover his firm’s wrongdoings.

And now he could be falsely blamed for them. Steve’s fists clench involuntarily and again he has to restrain himself from running down the hall to end Rumlow. That fucker - and Pierce - have committed all kinds of crimes in the name of greed and corruption and their backup plan in case things go wrong is to sell the person he loves best in the world down the river. He’s not sure he’s ever been so angry in his life, and part of him feels like he’ll spontaneously combust.

At the same instant there’s also part of him that’s relieved. This is undoubtedly a huge betrayal for Bucky, but at least he’s not involved in the criminal part. As much as he was willing to push to make this deal happen, he never resorted to outright felonies.

“Steve? Earth to Steve?” Suddenly Steve hears Clint’s voice as if from very far away, and he looks up. Clint and Nat are staring at him with concern. He knows his face is red and wonders how long he’s been going down this rage spiral.

“You OK?” Nat looks at him and reaches out to touch him on the shoulder. For all she’s scary as hell she can also be very caring and kind.

Steve barks out a bitter laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. I just...can’t believe all this, you know? I mean, I knew Pierce was a bastard, but that Rumlow and Sitwell would sell us out...and that they’d all try to pin everything on Pierce’s employee if it went south? That’s just so...” He shakes his head, at a loss for words. Then he looks at Clint and Nat.

“I guess I’m just having a hard time processing this,” he says, shrugging apologetically.

“I totally get it,” says Nat with sympathy. “I’ve seen a lot of crazy stuff in my time, but this...this is pretty bad.” Clint nods.

“It is really horrible,” he says, stretching his injured leg out more against the stool. “The question is, what do we do now? I think Fury needs to see all this.”

“He definitely needs to see this,” Nat agrees. “But we should get general counsel involved and figure out when and how to go to the authorities.”

“The authorities!” exclaims Steve in surprise. Then he stops for a minute and says, “Oh yeah, of course, we need to get the SEC involved.”

He thinks about Bucky again and worries. Now not only is he worried about Pierce hurting Bucky, he’s worried about Bucky getting caught in the whole criminal probe. What if the authorities believe he’s the one who’s done all this? What if Pierce and Rumlow get away with it? Steve’s anxiety imagination is really in high gear today.

Not for the first time he wishes he could call or text Bucky and make sure he’s alright. But he can’t, and the not knowing is killing him. He hasn’t gone to church since his mom’s funeral, but he sends a little silent prayer heavenward: _Please protect Bucky and keep him safe._ He finds himself repeating this same prayer throughout the rest of the day.

“Well, I guess we should go see Fury and consult with him,” says Clint. “I’ll IM Carol as well to have her meet us in his office.” Mentioning their general counsel’s name really forces it through Steve’s head that this is real, this is happening.

“He’s meeting with the CMO right now...” Nat starts to say, but Clint interrupts her.

“With all due respect to our marketing team,” he says, taking his foot off the stool and leaning forward to open a new Skype window on his laptop, “I think this is a little higher priority right now.” He’s about to type a new message when his phone rings. He picks it up.

“Barton,” he says. He listens for a few seconds, then says, “Yeah, uh-huh, we’ll be right there.”

Steve looks at him, confused, and Clint says, “That was Nick. He wants us all in his office immediately.” They all stand up and hurry down the hall as fast as possible given Clint’s bad ankle. As they go, Steve wonders what bad news could be coming now. He thinks he’s inured to all this, but finds the hurt and shock get worse with each new blow. He steels himself for something awful.

When they get to Fury’s office a few minutes later, they rush in. Steve can’t help but blurt out, “What’s wrong, Nick? What’s happening?”

Fury says nothing, but raises his eyebrows and turns his face to the big screen TV on the wall. He picks up the remote and raises the volume. Leslie Picker of CNBC is on, looking serious and sitting next to Morgan Brennan. A banner with BREAKING NEWS in big letters scrolls across the bottom of the screen.

“Breaking news at this time,” Picker says. “We have credible sources reporting that the SEC and FBI have raided the offices of private equity firm Hydra Advisors in the last hour, based on a tip from an anonymous whistleblower.”

Film rolls over the TV of federal agents wearing FBI jackets and latex gloves carrying boxes and sealed laptops and servers out of an office building just up the street in Midtown. Picker’s voice continues to sound over the footage.

“Initial reports from the scene indicate the possibility of charges of fraud, bribery, and insider trading by firm owner Alexander Pierce and his senior partners...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: Steve’s request of Brock to review “language around financials” for an option to be presented at the shareholder forum sounds incredibly nitpicky, but it’s typical for corporate presentations at this level with this importance to be revised into the ground by many senior leaders before they are given. Trust me on this.  
> 😩
> 
> I made up the booby trapped files and the program that can detect and scrub them, but in these days of hacking and cybersecurity they totally *could* be real. Please forgive any mistakes in the part about the computer files, I am not an IT person!
> 
> In this fic, Nat was totally a hacker in her youth and knows all about the ins and outs of cybersecurity. 
> 
> I didn’t get into all the details of the white collar crimes Pierce and Rumlow are guilty of here, but these actions are definitely felonies and fully prosecutable. 
> 
> General counsel is the top in-house lawyer for a company; big companies like Shield usually have a full legal team on staff, and bring in outside law firms as needed.
> 
> Leslie Picker and Morgan Brennan are real correspondents/anchors at CNBC.


	7. Infrastructure Will Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So I was wondering what happened to the...items,” Steve says. 
> 
> “What items?” Nat turns and looks at him pointedly. “There aren’t any items. Never were.” 
> 
> “Wait, what?” Steve says, taken aback for a moment, and then gets it. “Oh. Huh. That’s very... interesting. I must have been confused about that.” 
> 
> “Yes,” says Nat. “There weren’t any items...just like there was no one else with you when you saw that...meeting...outside the restaurant on 51st the other night.” 
> 
> Steve freezes and his blood runs cold. Fortunately the barista calls their order and he picks up the two lattes for them, so he’s got 20 seconds to compose himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: very brief references to imagined violence

**_THE WALL STREET JOURNAL_ **

Online edition, Business section

Friday, September 27, 2019

**Authorities Raid Maverick Private Equity Firm**

By Miriam Gottfried

Acting on a tip from an anonymous whistleblower, representatives from the FBI and the SEC raided the offices of private equity firm Hydra Advisors earlier today. Agents carried sealed boxes containing laptops, servers, and documents out of the firm’s offices in midtown Manhattan for further examination. FBI spokesperson Nico Minoru, speaking at the scene, said that authorities had received credible accusations of serious criminal activity at the firm, and that all firm assets had been frozen and all firm personnel subpoenaed.

Hydra has long been regarded in the industry as an unorthodox company that used assertive and sometimes questionable tactics to influence the targets of its investments and takeovers, but there has never been any indication of wrongdoing by firm management. The firm’s senior partner, Alexander Pierce, has perpetuated a culture of mystery around Hydra by enforcing strict privacy and non-disclosure rules among both senior and junior staff and rewarding this loyalty with higher than average bonuses in the industry.

In keeping with this focus on privacy, as of close of business Friday, Pierce and Hydra’s senior partners have made no public statement about the government investigation and it is unclear at this time if any staff will be implicated...

*****

**_Bloomberg Businessweek_ **

Online Edition

Monday, September 30, 2019

**Hydra-Shield Takeover Deal Suspended**

A representative for Shield Corporation ( _SHC_ ) reported today that the takeover deal proposed by private equity firm Hydra Advisors has been suspended indefinitely pending a federal investigation into Hydra’s business activities and practices.

In a press conference this afternoon, Shield’s Director of Investor Relations, Elizabeth Ross, announced that a Hydra representative had contacted Shield to inform them that the private equity firm was suspending its takeover bid with the SEC. Ross then stated that the full shareholder forum that Shield had planned for this Wednesday to vote on the deal had been canceled, and that shareholders could expect further clarification from the company as soon as possible.

When asked about Shield’s current plans and whether the takeover bid might still happen, Ross said she had no further comment. Shield’s stock finished slightly higher today, up 2% at $54.88 at close of markets...

*****

“Hey, Nat.”

Steve peeks into Nat’s office. It’s Tuesday, the day after the takeover has been suspended. Nat sits at her desk, looking flawless as usual except around the eyes. While no takeover means that the shareholder forum is no longer on their plates, dealing with the fallout from the news has more than made up for it, and the entire leadership team has had very little sleep since Friday night.

“Steve.” Nat stands up and looks at him, smoothing down her red dress. “What’s up.” 

“Do you have five minutes to get a coffee?” Steve says. “I know we’ve got a meeting with Fury in half an hour, but I feel like we need a quick break and a shot of caffeine.”

“I really don’t have time, Steve...” Nat starts to say, but Steve cuts her off.

“I know, I know,” he says. “But we need to talk about something that...needs discussing in a more neutral environment?” He hopes she’ll get the hint.

At that moment a pair of FBI agents walk down the hall behind Steve, wearing latex gloves and muttering to each other in low voices.

The lightbulb goes off over Nat’s head and she says, a shade louder than normal, “Oh yes, that. And wow, I really do need a latte right now, all these late nights.”

They head down the elevator and across the street to the nearest Starbucks. While waiting for their order, Steve leans down and says in a low voice, “So...you know what we briefed Nick about on Friday afternoon.”

Nat’s posture stiffens and she looks around cautiously. “Yes,” she says.

As soon as Fury had shown them the news of the Hydra raid on Friday on CNBC, they had told him about the files they’d taken from Rumlow’s laptop. He had listened carefully, and then asked them to wait to do anything with them, given that the authorities were already investigating.

And sure enough, first thing Monday morning the FBI had showed up with warrants and carried off boxes of materials, but only from the Finance group. They’d also asked Sitwell to accompany them back to FBI headquarters downtown, and he hasn’t yet returned to the office. Carol, Shield’s general counsel, advised the leadership team to grant law enforcement access to all paperwork but not to talk with them unless officially invited to do so.

“So I was wondering what happened to the...items,” Steve says.

“What items?” Nat turns and looks at him pointedly. “There aren’t any items. Never were.”

“Wait, what?” Steve says, taken aback for a moment, and then gets it. “Oh. Huh. That’s very... interesting. I must have been confused about that.”

“Yes,” says Nat. “There weren’t any items...just like there was no one else with you when you saw that...meeting...outside the restaurant on 51st the other night.”

Steve freezes and his blood runs cold. Fortunately the barista calls their order and he picks up the two lattes for them, so he’s got 20 seconds to compose himself.

“Not sure what you’re talking about,” he says as he hands her the coffee. “I had to stop at Duane Reade before heading home...”

“You never go to Duane Reade,” says Nat, rolling her eyes. “You go to Careland in Brooklyn because it’s not a chain.” Before Steve can protest further, Nat smirks a little and says, “It’s OK, Steve, I know you had a date. Who is she? Is it Melanie from our Labor Day party?”

Steve inwardly lets out a giant exhale. Nat (rightly) suspects something, but lucky for him she’s barking up the wrong tree...at least for now. He plays along.

“It’s...it’s new,” Steve says hesitantly. “Things are okay, but with all the drama at Shield I’m not sure if it’ll work. But it’s nice. I don’t wanna jinx it.” All of this is technically true, even if it’s got nothing to do with Melanie from Nat’s Labor Day party.

“Ah,” says Nat as they leave the Starbucks. She smiles enigmatically at him and he smiles weakly back. At the same time his heart gives a pang.

_Bucky,_ he thinks. _Are you OK? Where are you?_

*****

**_THE NEW YORK TIMES_ **

Online edition, Business section

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

**First Federal Indictments Brought Against Hydra and Shield Executives**

By Rachel Abrams

US Attorney Preet Bharara announced an initial set of criminal charges had been filed against senior executives at both private equity firm Hydra Advisors and diversified manufacturer Shield Corporation ( _SHC_ ). Hydra had been engaged in a takeover bid for Shield, which was suspended on Monday once the investigation was announced. 

Bharara told reporters that senior Hydra partners Alexander Pierce, Johann Schmidt, and Arnim Zola had all been indicted for fraud, bribery, and insider trading in the attempted Shield takeover bid. Shield CFO Brock Rumlow faces the same charges on the Shield side, and Shield Associate Director of Finance Jasper Sitwell has been charged with fraud and insider trading.

In the press conference, Bharara stated: “These are preliminary charges. This investigation is ongoing and we may see more developments in the coming days and weeks.” None of those facing charges could be reached for comment...

**Read more about Hydra Advisors in the Deal Book: “Hydra: A private equity firm in crisis”

*****

“Hey Rogers, what the hell are you doing in my office?”

Steve looks up from his desk, startled at the voice. Maria Hill stands there, a teasing, affectionate smile on her face. Steve grins back.

“Maria!” he says warmly. “I’m trespassing. Wouldja like it back?” he teases in return, and gets up to shake her hand. She bats his hand away, saying “What is this handshake nonsense, bring it in,” and gives him a huge hug.

Maria is tall and beautiful, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Like Natasha, she is immaculately dressed and full of charm and poise, and also like Natasha, she clearly lets you know that in the blink of an eye she could have you on the floor with her Jimmy Choo on your neck.

“So good to see you,” says Steve, pulling back from their hug. “Thanks for getting in touch so quickly after you got back from Guangzhou.” Maria had called him on Sunday and told him that she’d been keeping up with the news and that she and Pepper would be at Shield the next Thursday to meet with Fury.

Now it’s Thursday and Maria and Pepper’s meeting with Fury must be over. Steve is practically dying of curiosity to find out what happened but he knows Maria - or Fury - will tell him when they’re good and ready.

“Of course,” says Maria. “Anything for my best protege.”

“Ha ha,” says Steve weakly, rolling his eyes. “That’s awfully nice of you. I don’t feel much like the best anything right now.”

“Steve,” Maria says, looking at him seriously. “You are a great CSO. You’ve done a great job here. There’s so much that’s been out of your control - you can’t take responsibility for all of Shield’s troubles, and especially not this whole takeover nightmare.”

“Thanks, Maria,” Steve says, smiling. “That means a lot coming from you.” There’s a brief silence, and then Maria speaks.

“I think Fury wants to tell you about our meeting and the news that’ll come out of it, so I won’t spoil it, but I think you’ll like what’s going to happen. And Fury’s gonna need your help.”

“Uh...OK,” Steve responds. “I’m happy to help out however I can.” He tries to sound enthusiastic, but some part of him is chagrined at being further tied down at Shield when all he wants to do is get out.

His stomach rumbles. “Hey, do you want to grab some lunch? Or are you busy?”

“I’ve got to head out with Pepper,” says Maria. “But thanks for the invitation. Can I take a rain check?”

“Yeah...actually,” says Steve, hesitation in his voice, the chagrin he’s feeling staying with him. “Are you free for lunch at all next week? I... have an idea I want to float by you. You know, informally. As a mentor. And a friend.”

Maria looks surprised but flattered. “Of course,” she says and pulls out her phone. “I’m free next Tuesday. Where do you want to meet?”

“Can I take you to Fig & Olive?” Steve asks. “I know you love their crostini.”

“Oh yeah, perfect!” Maria says, and gives him a high five. “OK, see you then.”

“Thanks, Maria,” says Steve, and watches her leave down the hall. Then he sits down at his desk and blows a breath out of his mouth.

_I guess I’m doin this,_ he thinks. _I’m really gonna try to make this change._ He feels a bit overwhelmed but also a sense of relief about it, like he’s finally doing the right thing. An image flashes through his head of himself, coming home from working at a non-profit and meeting Bucky in the kitchen, kissing him hello, asking him about his day as he makes them dinner...

Steve’s heart twists in a combination of hope and anxiety. He wants to believe that dream can become a reality, but he has no idea where Bucky is, or even if he’s alright. Is he safe? Is he in jail? Is he...dead in a dumpster behind the Hydra office?

Steve grinds his teeth to stop the catastrophic thinking. _Bucky will get in touch when he can, Bucky will get in touch when he can,_ Steve repeats in his head.

Then his IM pings - it’s Nat, asking him to come to Fury’s office. That gets him out of his head fast. He needs to refocus so he’s ready to get to work when Nick tells him the news from Pepper and Maria. He and their other senior staff are already overwhelmed with work now that their CFO and Director of Finance have been suspended from their jobs after their indictments.

His stomach rumbles again. Shit. He grabs a protein bar out of his desk and wolfs it down, takes a few big gulps of water, and heads off to the CEO suite.

*****

**_THE WALL STREET JOURNAL_ **

Online edition, Business section

Friday, October 4, 2019

**Shield Corp Announces Major Joint Venture**

By Miriam Gottfried

Shield Corp ( _SHC_ ) announced a major alliance with diversified technology firm Stark Industries ( _SI_ ). Speaking in a joint press conference with Stark CEO Virginia Potts, Shield leader Nick Fury reported that the two companies were creating a joint venture to manufacture high-tech energy and healthcare products and the associated circuits and electronics.

“We at Shield are proud and excited to be embarking on a new relationship with Stark Industries, an American company with as venerable a history as ours,” said Fury during the press conference. Potts added, “Stark Industries is looking forward to working with Shield on critical products for healthcare and clean energy technology.”

The announcement is a positive turn for the embattled Shield Corp, who until this past Monday was the target of a hostile takeover bid from private equity firm Hydra Advisors. The bid looked ready to go through until an anonymous whistleblower provided evidence to federal authorities of alleged criminal activities at Hydra including fraud and insider trading. Shield Corp stocks closed up 5% today at $57.74...

*****

**_THE NEW YORK TIMES_ **

Online edition, Business section

Friday, October 4, 2019

**Hydra Leaders Plead Not Guilty to Charges**

By Rachel Abrams

In New York Superior Court this morning, Hydra Advisors CEO Alexander Pierce and his two senior partners were indicted on various charges, including fraud, insider trading, and bribery. Pierce was also charged with extortion and intimidation. All three men pleaded not guilty and were released on a combined $10 million bail. None of them made statements outside the courthouse, but US Attorney Preet Bharara reminded reporters that the investigation is ongoing and he did not rule out the possibility of further charges against the Hydra leaders.

Hydra Advisors is one of the twenty largest private equity firms in the world, with a reported $295 billion in assets under management. It has raised $26.4 billion over the past five years. And yet beyond this, very little is known about the firm and its founders. Alexander Pierce is on the Board of Directors at New York City Ballet and the New York Philharmonic, but keeps his social life private. This focus on privacy extends to Hydra employees, who are not active on social media...

**Related story in Business: Shield CFO and Finance Director Fired after Indictments in Hydra Takeover Attempt

*****

Steve comes out of the F train exit and walks slowly toward home, pulling his jacket closer around him. It’s late Friday night and the early October weather has turned cool. Steve was out tonight in Manhattan with Nat and Clint, who’d encouraged him to take a break and celebrate the SI partnership announcement. He hadn’t really felt like celebrating, but he’d gone out with them anyway.

And truth be told, Steve is glad for the distraction. He’s been busy over the last couple of days dealing with the Shield-SI alliance news, but even then a whole part of him has been absent, thinking about Bucky.

He’s heard nothing, not a whisper, since Bucky walked away from him over a week ago to find out what was happening at Hydra. He’s pored obsessively over all the news about Hydra, but there’s been no mention of Bucky at all in any of the articles - even though Bucky was notionally the lead manager of the Shield takeover attempt. Steve is not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, and his brain is tired from trying to deduce everything from so little information.

The news articles occasionally mention “an anonymous whistleblower,” which might be Bucky. This idea leaves Steve ambivalent. On the one hand, he’d be really proud of Bucky for finding and exposing corruption and crime at Hydra, for doing the right thing, even if it’s difficult. On the other, Pierce had backup files that implicated Bucky, so he could still be arrested. And going after Hydra could put a target on Bucky’s back, could bring Pierce and his cronies after him, especially because they’re not in jail, they’re out on bail after pleading not guilty to the charges. Again the worst case scenario flashes through his head of the person he loves best in the world, dead in an alley...

He makes an effort to clear his mind of such thoughts and turns down Cranberry Street towards home. He loves his house, but if he’s completely honest with himself, he’s been dreading going home for over a week now. Everything in his house reminds him of his night there with Bucky - even just entering the foyer through the front door brings back memories of when he pushed Bucky against the wall at the beginning of the evening, and said a bittersweet goodnight at the end of it.

Steve walks up the stairs to his front door and gets assailed by images from last week.

_Bucky laid out beneath him, begging Steve to take him apart, maintaining eye contact as Steve thrusts deep inside him...Bucky holding onto Steve afterward, wrapping his legs around him like he never wants to let go...Bucky lying next to him in his bed, looking blissed out and kissing him so sweetly..._

Steve has to stop for a minute at the door and leans over, breathless. The ache of missing Bucky gets more intense and for a split second Steve is tempted to run back down the street and go stay at a hotel. He wishes he’d told Bucky he loved him that night. He wishes he’d told Bucky he loved him the next night at The National. He panics at the thought that he’ll never see Bucky again, never get the chance to tell him he loves him, and chokes back a sob.

Looking down at the ground, awash in worry and despair, Steve is suddenly hit with a revelation and he achieves a state of pure mental and emotional clarity. He knows what will make him happy and he knows what he wants. And he knows what he can (and can’t) do to get it. All the uncertainty is gone. He takes several deep breaths and calms himself down enough to take out his keys and unlock the door.

As he steps into his foyer he imagines for one wild instant that Bucky will be there to greet him. But the house is empty and silent. His heart sinks a little even as he’s chastising himself for getting his hopes up.

Then he kicks something on the floor, and it crinkles a little as it flutters forward. He leans over to pick it up. It’s a small envelope, the kind made of high-quality linen paper that usually contains an expensive thank-you note. There’s no name or address on it, but Steve opens it anyway with shaking hands.

Inside is a mother-of-pearl button from an upscale men’s dress shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wall Street Journal and New York Times reporters are real people; my apologies for attributing my prose to them as they are much better writers, but I wanted this to look realistic! :-) 
> 
> Usually the authorities wait until they’ve reviewed all available evidence to bring a full set of charges against people who are accused, but for purposes of the story I made them move things along faster. 
> 
> The “SHC” and “SI” next to the company names are (made-up) stock call letters - in the business press you can click on these to get the latest stock prices of actual companies. Hydra doesn’t have these letters because it’s a private company, with no stock traded on a public exchange.
> 
> Preet Bharara is a real person - he was the US attorney for the southern district of New York and was somewhat of a “crusader” against Wall Street and big money. He was fired by our terrible orange president in 2017. In the world of this fic, he’s still US attorney fighting for justice, and white-collar criminals get the punishments they actually deserve. Hey, we can all dream, right???
> 
> The Shield-SI alliance would not happen that fast in real life, nor would it be created without the close involvement of the CSO, but like the indictments, I changed it up for plot purposes. 
> 
> Fig & Olive is a Mediterranean restaurant in Midtown Manhattan and their crostini really are amazing. 
> 
> Many companies have similar policies to Shield’s, where employees are suspended if they’re brought up on felony charges, and fired if indicted, so what happens to Rumlow and Sitwell here is not unusual. 
> 
> I know this looks bleak right now, but I promise you all it works out!


	8. Your Ears Should Be Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Steve reaches the entrance to the subway, the real reason he didn’t want company becomes clear. Instead of heading toward his usual Brooklyn-bound train, he walks down to the platform for the 6 to go downtown to Tribeca. 
> 
> Steve gets off the 6 train at Canal Street and walks the few blocks south to Leonard Street, where he turns toward the new condo building. He thinks to himself that even if he could just see if the lights were on in the penthouse, if he could just see that Bucky was there, then that would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: for brief references to past acts of violence

_**THE WALL STREET JOURNAL** _

Online edition, Business section

Thursday, October 10, 2019

**Government Brings Further Charges in Hydra Advisors Case**

By Miriam Gottfried

US Attorney Preet Bharara announced further charges in the federal government’s case against the partners of leading private equity firm Hydra Advisors, including 19 separate charges of fraud in past takeover bids, embezzlement, and misuse of investor funds.

To the surprise of reporters, Bharara also announced charges against Hydra CEO Alexander Pierce of extortion, assault, attempted murder, and first-degree murder. These last two involved, respectively, the late-night fall down subway stairs of George Lawlor, former CFO of Hazlit Corp, and the hit and run of Martin Hornby, former Finance Director at Yates, Inc. Both of these incidents were originally believed to have been accidents.

Hazlit was taken over by Hydra in 2004 and resold in 2007; Hydra bought Yates in 2006 and merged it with other businesses, spinning off the resulting company in 2012.

Bharara announced that his office was working with the FBI and the NYPD on the latest charges against Pierce, and had brought in Pierce’s driver Daniel Parillo for questioning. He told reporters that given the severity of the alleged crimes, bail would not be granted to Pierce once he was indicted.

Neither Pierce nor his lawyers were available for comment on the latest charges. Pierce’s current whereabouts are unknown, causing sources close to the case to speculate that he has fled the country or will attempt to do so...

**See related article, Major Investors Bring Lawsuits against Hydra Advisors

_**THE NEW YORK TIMES** _

Online edition, Business section

Friday, October 11, 2019

**Private Equity CEO Arrested in Attempt to Flee the Country**

By Rachel Abrams

Hydra Advisors CEO Alexander Pierce was arrested on a private jet at Westchester County Airport early this morning. According to the flight plan on board the jet, Pierce was attempting to flee to Moldova, a country with no extradition treaty with the U.S. He will be arraigned in federal court later today.

Authorities charged Pierce last week with fraud, insider trading, and bribery in Hydra’s proposed takeover bid of manufacturer Shield Corp (SHC); the takeover bid was suspended the next day. Yesterday US Attorney Preet Bharara announced further charges against Pierce in the ongoing Hydra investigation, including murder, attempted murder, and assault. These charges were linked to past Hydra takeovers.

In a related operation, authorities arrested former Shield CFO Brock Rumlow last night as he attempted to board a charter flight to the Cayman Islands under an assumed name. Rumlow had been charged with fraud, insider trading, collusion, and bribery in the Shield takeover bid, and Bharara announced he will face further charges related to the attempted flight...

**See related article: Hydra Advisors: A History of Deception

*****

“Hey Clint, I’m headed out.” Steve pokes his head into Barton’s office. Clint looks up from his laptop.

“Hey man!” he says, his eyes lighting up. “If you can wait twenty minutes, Nat and I are headed out soon too.”

It’s about nine PM on the Friday that Pierce was arrested trying to flee the country. Steve and the senior executives at Shield are all working overtime these days, trying to right the ship amidst the wreckage of the takeover attempt and filling in for Rumlow and Sitwell after their arrests and termination from the firm.

Rumlow’s most senior remaining finance team member has been deputized as interim CFO and Steve has sent Darcy over to act as her interim Finance Director. In the handful of times Steve has seen Darcy this week, she’s been completely swamped trying to get the financials back on track after all of Rumlow and Sitwell’s shenanigans. However, he has had the chance to take her out for her favorite venti vanilla cold brew and catch up a bit. She’s in her element fixing the finance department but admits to Steve that she’s bored stiff and would rather be back in Strategy.

Steve hesitates, then looks at Clint and says, “Ennhh, I’d rather be alone right now, but thanks for the offer of company.”

In the Strategy group, Steve is almost as busy as Darcy but his focus is working out the details of the new strategic alliance with Stark Industries. He’s in almost constant touch with Maria Hill and her team at SI, and meets a lot with Fury and Clint to go over projections of what the alliance will mean for Shield’s operations.

Clint raises his eyebrows. “You sure, man?”

Steve sighs. “Yeah,” he signs. Clint smirks a little.

“Got a date, huh?” he signs back. “Melanie?”

“Melanie?”

Steve’s face goes blank for a minute - he’s forgotten about Melanie from Nat and Clint’s Labor Day party - and Clint totally misinterprets his expression.

“Oh man, Nat told me,” he says, frowning. “Ah dude, I shouldn’t have said anything...it’s totally your personal life, I didn’t mean to pry...”

Steve shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s OK,” he says. “That...uh...” he falters, then stops. “That didn’t work out,” he says quietly. “Too much going on at work, too many things going against it...it just...sorta...fizzled.”

“Oh man, Steve, I’m so sorry,” Clint says, propping his chin on his hand sympathetically. “Nat was really stoked that you were getting out there.”

“I know,” says Steve with a sigh. Wow, does he hate lying, especially to his friends. But in an instant of despair, he admits - to himself, at least - that what he said things not working out could well be true. He’s just not talking about Melanie.

“Well, anyway,” Steve continues, “Gonna head home. See you tomorrow - I’ll be here early afternoon. Got brunch with a friend.”

He sees Clint’s eyebrows start to waggle suggestively and cuts him off. “Seriously, Clint, it’s really just a friend, my buddy Sam from the military.”

“OK, sounds good,” says Barton, rocking back in his chair. “See you then. Workin’ Saturdays, gotta love it!” He flashes Steve the three-finger “love you” salute and opens his mouth to stick his tongue out like Gene Simmons.

“It’s a glamorous life,” says Steve wryly. He returns the salute and takes off for the elevator, trying not to feel too much like a spoilsport.

As Steve reaches the entrance to the subway, the real reason he didn’t want company becomes clear. Instead of heading toward his usual Brooklyn-bound train, he walks down to the platform for the 6 to go downtown to Tribeca.

Steve gets off the 6 train at Canal Street and walks the few blocks south to Leonard Street, where he turns toward the new condo building. He thinks to himself that even if he could just see if the lights were on in the penthouse, if he could just see that Bucky was there, then that would be enough. 

He admits at this point that he’s desperate and willing to do stupid things. When he got the dress shirt button from Bucky a week ago it really got his hopes up, but since then everything has reverted to radio silence. There’s been no word from Bucky at all and no mention of him in the papers. Even the “anonymous whistleblower” references have dried up, especially since the more dramatic and violent allegations surfaced against Pierce.

Steve has stopped worrying about Bucky being dead in a dumpster, since, he reasons (as much as you can reason when indulging in worst-case scenario thinking), by now someone would have found the body unless it was at the bottom of the Hudson.

But he wonders if the complete lack of communication means Bucky is being held somewhere by authorities, if they’re cooking up charges against him based on Pierce’s faked files...Steve’s gut churns with worry.

Approaching Bucky’s building from the other side of the street, Steve takes a deep breath and looks up. The penthouse is completely dark and it’s clear that no one is there. Steve stares up at the huge, shrouded windows on the top floor for a few minutes, as if willing the lights to come on, but nothing happens. He sighs and turns to walk slowly away toward the subway.

_Bucky_ , he thinks to himself with an ache in his heart. _Where are you??_

*****

“Holy shit, Rogers,” says Sam as they clink glasses at brunch late morning the next day. “Hoh. Lee. Shit.”

Steve chuckles wryly and shakes his head. “I know, Sam. I know.”

“Man, it’s like you got stuck in the middle of a nighttime soap or somethin,” Sam says. “Every time I looked at the news on my phone there was some new drama.”

“Yep,” says Steve. “It’s been...” he pauses, searching for word, “Quite something.” He takes a sip of his drink.

“But you’re OK?” persists Sam. “And your company...not getting taken over?”

“Nope, no takeover,” says Steve with a crooked smile. “At least not this week.” He looks up at the ceiling and back at Sam.

“And I’m OK,” he continues. “I mean, as OK as I’m gonna be, under the circumstances.” Sam hears this and looks pointedly at Steve.

“Still wanting to get out, huh?” Sam says bluntly. “All this excitement not enough for ya?”

Steve looks rueful and a bit guilty all at once.

“All this excitement just keeps driving it home that I need to get out, Sam,” he says frankly. “I want a job I can be proud of, a job that really helps people.”

Steve sighs. “I want to come home at the end of the day feeling satisfied that it meant something,” he says. “I want to come home at the end of the day to...”

_Bucky_.

He doesn’t say Bucky’s name out loud, but even just thinking it makes his chest constrict. He’s tried not to think about it, but it’s impossible to stop imagining a life with Bucky. He wants it so much he can hardly think straight.

An image pops into his head just then of Bucky, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, sitting at the island in his kitchen, watching him while he makes breakfast, and it almost takes his breath away.

Suddenly Steve realizes that he’s left Sam hanging in the middle of a sentence. He looks at Sam and says, “Sorry, Sam, I got distracted. Too much going on.”

“Hey, no worries, man, no worries,” says Sam with a smile. “I know you got a lot goin’ on, but have you done anything toward getting out? Besides just thinking about it longingly while you work ridiculous hours?”

“Heh heh, I mean, of course I’ve done that, too,” Steve says, rolling his eyes at himself. “But yeah, actually, I have. You remember Maria Hill, my former boss? Works at Stark Industries? I think you met her at Clint and Nat’s a while back...”

“Um, *of course* I remember Maria,” Sam retorts, picking up his glass. “She is...not someone you forget in a hurry.” He raises his glass, presumably toasting the absent Ms. Hill, and then takes a gulp.

Steve raises his eyebrows.

“Well, if I’d known you were interested, Sam...” he says, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“I mean, I’m definitely interested,” says Sam with a shrug. “But she’s a kickass senior executive with a very glamorous life and I’m sure she ain’t interested in a humble VA director.”

“Ennnhhh, don’t be too sure,” Steve rejoins, grinning like crazy. “Maria’s pretty down-to-earth and she likes to mingle with the common people, keep in touch with her roots...”

“Oh my god, up yours, Rogers,” Sam retorts. “Just get on with your story, dammit.” Steve snorts and then continues.

“So I had lunch with the kickass, glamorous Ms. Hill the other day,” Steve says. “Not an official lunch - just an informal friends lunch.”

Their food arrives and Sam immediately tucks into his beloved shrimp and grits but motions for Steve to keep talking.

“I told Maria more or less what I’ve told you,” says Steve. “About wanting to get out. She was a bit sad - because for some reason she thinks I’m a decent CSO - but she was sympathetic.”

“Because you *are* a decent CSO, Steve,” interrupts Sam with his mouth full. “Stop selling yourself short for two minutes, for Chrissake.”

“OK,” says Steve, turning pink. “Well anyway, we talked about what I was looking to do for a bit, and she told me to come see her at Stark Industries late next week, because she had some ideas.” He picks up his fork and spears a hash brown. “That’s promising, right?”

“Steve, that is great,” says Sam, with emphasis on the “great.” “You are actually doing something about this.” He reaches over and claps Steve on the shoulder. “Proud of you, man.”

“Thanks, Sam, I’m kind of excited,” says Steve. “Nervous, but excited.”

They focus on eating for a few minutes, and the conversation switches to focus on Sam and all the happenings at the VA. Toward the end of the meal, as they’re finishing up, Sam turns it back on Steve.

“So Steve, as your best friend, it’s my duty to ask about your love life every time we get together,” he says, blotting his mouth with his napkin. “I know you hardly leave the office these days, but...someone in the office? What about that cute woman who works with you?”

“Darcy?” Steve says, gobsmacked. Sam nods. “Darcy, that cute woman who works *for* me, and lives with her long-time boyfriend? That Darcy?”

“Well, I didn’t know she had a long-time boyfriend, Rogers!” Sam says defensively. “I just met her that once at that office party, and she wasn’t with a boyfriend then.”

“He was traveling that week, so he couldn’t make the party,” says Steve. And then, with a gleam in his eye: “You know, a few people thought you and I were dating at that party. I did bring you as my plus-one, you know.”

Sam opens his mouth and starts to get all huffy, but then closes it and smiles.

“You’d be lucky to be dating me, Rogers,” he says, preening. “And you know it.”

“Damn right I would,” Steve says with a grin. “But somehow it’s just never worked out for us.”

The image of Bucky sitting at his kitchen island flashes into his head again and he goes solemn and meditative.

“But seriously, Sam,” he starts. “I...I kind of did meet someone in the midst of all this...”

“...someone who distracts you in the middle of a sentence?” Sam interrupts, looking knowingly at Steve.

When Steve looks questioningly at him, he says, “Dude, c’mon, I’ve known you for almost fifteen years, you think I don’t know you? You think couldn’t see you thinking about that ‘someone’ earlier?”

Steve says, “Busted,” and can feel himself going red. “Anyway, I...really like them but I’m not sure it’s gonna work out. Too much drama in my life, too many weird circumstances, too much going against us.”

_Including the fact that I haven’t heard from him in over a week and he may be in federal custody_ , Steve thinks but doesn’t say.

“Well, man,” says Sam carefully. “You’re working to get out of the drama, so who knows? Maybe if they can just be a little patient...”

_Maybe if he could just tell me he’s still alive, that would help,_ Steve again thinks to himself, with a healthy amount of bitterness.

“Maybe,” he says out loud to Sam. “We’ll see what happens. I’ll keep you posted.” Steve gets the check from their server and pays it.

“Sam, I gotta get to work,” he says apologetically. “I know, it sucks, but with this whole Stark alliance and all...”

“Hey man, no worries,” says Sam. “I actually gotta head over to the VA soon. Group therapy session.”

They stand up and walk out of Vinegar Hill House. It’s a sunny October day, puffy clouds dotting the deep blue sky. The air is warm in the sun but with an autumn chill creeping in. Steve pulls on his sport coat over his button down and v-neck sweater.

“Alright, goodbye, my man,” says Sam affectionately. “Talk to you soon.” Steve pulls him in for a big hug.

“Bye, Sam,” he says near Sam’s ear. “Thanks for being such a good friend.” They pull apart and Sam puts his finger in Steve’s face.

“I am THE BEST friend. And don’t you forget it!” he says, daring Steve to disagree.

“How can I,” says Steve, in complete little shit mode. “You never let me.” They separate, laughing, and Steve walks off to the subway to head into midtown.

*****

Late that afternoon, Steve walks up the steps to his front door. It’s only six o’clock but it’s already twilight and the autumn chill from earlier in the day is more noticeable. Steve could have stayed in the office longer - Fury, Clint, and Nat are still there - but some part of him said _Fuck it_ around five, and he told his team to go home and left shortly thereafter himself.

Steve acknowledges that the attitude comes directly from his brunch with Sam earlier in the day. He knows he needs to stick it out at Shield and help them get through this crisis period, but he’s restless and can’t wait to meet with Maria at SI the following week. He’s ready to move on into a new chapter in his life.

He unlocks his door and enters his house, dropping his laptop bag and sport coat on a chair in the living room.

He also acknowledges that he’s heartsick about Bucky. Steve wants to be with Bucky - he wants a life with Bucky - but he doesn’t know what’s happening with Bucky, and the not knowing is threatening to turn those dreams sour.

He finds his thoughts are evolving from dread and worry when the Hydra news first broke and Bucky first disappeared to impatience and bitterness now that the bad guys have been arrested and there’s still no word from Bucky.

And he feels guilty as shit about this.

Steve drops his phone on the kitchen island and turns to the fridge to rummage for some dinner. He thinks of the dress shirt button in the envelope from last weekend - it’s in the box in his nightstand with the others, of course - but he wishes for something else...anything else. A text, an anonymous phone call, whatever. He’s pined after Bucky for so long, and he loves him more than anyone else in the world, but if he gets his heart broken again...

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!”

The yell is ripped out of Steve almost involuntarily and he steps back from the fridge and lets it close.

He screams again, clenching his fists and looking at the ceiling, and channels all the worry and frustration, all the anger and bitterness, all the stress of the last few weeks passing from his gut out through his throat. Normally he’d never even imagine doing this, for fear of bothering the neighbors, but everything he’s been through over the past several weeks is wringing it out of him.

After a few minutes, Steve has shouted himself hoarse and tired himself out. The house feels extra quiet now after his outburst. He can feel that his face is red and he goes over to the sink to splash cold water on it. He gulps down some water to soothe his parched throat.

He’s returning his mind to making dinner when his phone buzzes on the counter and he ambles over to see who the text is from.

**Unknown Caller**

_backyard_

Steve starts and his heart beats wildly as he looks past his dining table through the slider to his tiny backyard. But by now it’s dark and he can’t see anything.

He hurries over to the door, turns on the light, and opens the slider.

“Anyone there? Hello?” he says, his voice breaking just a bit.

“Hey Stevie,” says a soft voice.

A figure comes out of the shadows to the left and he turns to see...

...James Buchanan Barnes, looking exhausted and uncertain but still hopeful.

Steve’s mouth drops open as he looks at him. Bucky smiles his signature crooked smile and a little light appears in his eyes.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: Again, I really shortened the timeline for the government investigation of Hydra for story purposes; in real life, this kind of major SEC/FBI probe would take months, especially with all the various charges involved. 
> 
> The “violent crime” charges against Pierce are very rare among that type of super-rich person. Typically the media and many others talk about “white collar” crime like it’s not as bad as “regular” crime but you can make the argument that in some ways it’s much worse. The leadership at Enron was “only” guilty of white collar crimes but they ruined a lot of people’s lives and careers. Ditto Bernie Madoff and those of his ilk. 
> 
> I promise the next chapter will be much happier, you guys!!


	9. I Just Wanna Be Your Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky winces and two pink spots appear high up on his cheekbones.
> 
> “Steve...” he starts, in a sharp voice heavy with pain and want. “Steve.”
> 
> It’s this voice that breaks Steve out of polite automaton mode. He looks at Bucky’s face and realizes that the emotions he just experienced ten minutes ago in his solo yell fest are nothing to the tsunami of feelings that wells up in his chest now, or the emotions Bucky’s going through. 
> 
> And that’s the end of the pretense.
> 
> “Bucky,” he says, just as sharply. He skirts around the kitchen island and grabs Bucky by the shoulders.
> 
> “Bucky,” he growls. And he leans in and seals his mouth onto Bucky’s in a bruising kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief reference to potential/imagined harm

“Can I come in?” Bucky asks. His smile is genuine but uncertain.

A rush of strong, conflicting emotions assails Steve as he looks at Bucky, standing on his back step. For what seems like eternity but is in fact only a few seconds, Steve can’t speak.

Then he regains the power of speech and says, “Of course, of course! Come in!” Steve pitches his voice to sound like a host welcoming an acquaintance to a party. After his outburst a few minutes ago, he’s done a one-eighty and has now become the most conventional, no-feelings man on earth. He shepherds Bucky into the house.

“Can I take your coat?” Host Steve has completely taken over his body and he feels the awkwardness in the air like a physical presence.

“Thanks,” says Bucky quietly, handing over his leather jacket. He’s wearing the most casual outfit Steve has seen him in since high school, a snug deep blue v-neck cardigan over a t-shirt with fitted jeans and brown driving moccasins, a little damp from the dew in the grass in Steve’s backyard. Steve hangs the coat in his front closet.

“Hey, sorry for the trespassing and the dramatic entrance.” Bucky shrugs his shoulders and looks embarrassed as Steve returns to the kitchen area. “But I’m supposed to keep a low profile and didn’t want people to see me ringing your front doorbell.”

“Hey, no worries,” says Steve in an over-enthusiastic voice. Inside he’s horrified with himself.

_What the fuck, Rogers. Act like a real person already._

But somehow he keeps going through the motions. He leans over the kitchen island with a plastered-on smile and says, “Can I get you a drink? What would you like?”

Bucky winces and two pink spots appear high up on his cheekbones.

“Steve...” he starts, in a sharp voice heavy with pain and want. “Steve.”

It’s this voice that breaks Steve out of polite automaton mode. He looks at Bucky’s face and realizes that the emotions he just experienced ten minutes ago in his solo yell fest are nothing to the tsunami of feelings that wells up in his chest now, or the emotions Bucky’s going through.

And that’s the end of the pretense.

“Bucky,” he says, just as sharply. He skirts around the kitchen island and grabs Bucky by the shoulders.

“Bucky,” he growls. And he leans in and seals his mouth onto Bucky’s in a bruising kiss.

Bucky shriek-groans into Steve’s mouth and he reaches around to grab Steve around the back and pull him close so they’re touching from pecs to thighs. Steve circles Bucky’s shoulders with one hand and runs the other up his neck to thread into his hair.

They kiss and kiss, like they can’t stop kissing, like they don’t want to stop kissing, all the anguish and dread of the last few weeks exiting their bodies through their mouths. After what seems an eternity, Steve pulls away to look at Bucky for a moment. His hair is mussed, his cheeks are red, his pupils blown wide and dark, his lips red and swollen, his chest heaving.

He’s never looked so beautiful.

“Bucky,” Steve gasps again before leaning back in to lick over Bucky’s lips and force his tongue between his teeth. He pulls away and kisses a line over to Bucky’s jaw and down his neck. “Bucky.” He pulls aside Bucky’s t-shirt and kisses his collarbone, then nips at it.

Bucky inhales. “Yes, Stevie,” he hisses, grasping the back of Steve’s head. “Mark me up.”

This exhortation goes straight to Steve’s crotch and he sucks a mark where he’d been nipping, Bucky egging him on with filthy commentary, delivered in a whisper.

After he’s satisfied with the bruise he’s left on Bucky’s collarbone, Steve loosens his hold on Bucky’s neck and comes up to kiss his lips. He feels that familiar heat surging between them and pulls back to take off Bucky’s sweater and t-shirt over his head in one fluid movement, reveling in Bucky’s sharp intake of breath.

Steve pulls off his v-neck sweater, undoes his cuffs, and is about to unbutton his oxford shirt when Bucky reaches out to stop him. Steve looks up into Bucky’s blue-grey eyes to see them gleam and his mouth curl up in a crooked, lazy smile. Bucky leans in to give Steve a filthy kiss and then whisper, “‘That’s my job.”

Bucky grabs Steve’s button-down and rips it off him, sending buttons flying everywhere and smiling at Steve’s moan. Then as he did seven years ago, he snatches the top of Steve’s undershirt and rips it down the middle and tears it off.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to shriek. He clasps Bucky to him, rubbing their chests together. It’s a cool evening but they’re both burning up, body heat already creating a light sheen of sweat across their skin.

“Please,” whispers Bucky, kissing down Steve’s neck and licking across his trapezius down to the hollow above his collarbone. “Please, Steve.”

“Please what, Bucky,” growls Steve, lifting his chin, enjoying the feel of Bucky’s tongue and hot breath on his skin.

“Please fuck me,” continues Bucky in a whisper, biting Steve’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you so much. Take me upstairs and fuck me so hard that I can’t even see straight.”

He lifts his head and looks directly at Steve.

“I’m yours,” Bucky says in a low voice. “Claim me.”

At this, Steve’s brain shorts out and his throat closes up with want. A sound involuntarily escapes his lips that emanates deep in his gut, and he grabs Bucky’s hand and pulls him upstairs to his bedroom.

In the bedroom they can’t shed their remaining clothes fast enough, and once they’re naked Steve pulls Bucky to him to feel his heat up and down his body and grind his erection into Bucky’s hip. He bites along Bucky’s shoulder just to see his head tip back...and leaves another hickey along his collarbone.

Bucky hisses and pulls Steve’s head up to lay a searing kiss on his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie, just fuck me already,” he hisses.

Steve’s eyes dilate and he manhandles Bucky into a kneeling position on the bed, spreading his legs so he can have easy access to Bucky’s ass. He grabs a condom and the lube from his nightstand, slathers it over his fingers, and starts to massage Bucky’s hole. Bucky leans backward into Steve’s touch, impatient.

“C’mon, Stevie,” he says. “In me. _In me_.” Steve grunts and slides two fingers into Bucky’s ass with a brief concern that it’ll be too much too fast - but he needn’t have worried. Bucky inhales sharply and leans back into his hand, hissing, “Yes, yes, fuck yes...”

Soon it’s three fingers and Bucky is begging for Steve’s cock. Steve withdraws his fingers, slides on the condom, and without hesitation drives himself all the way into Bucky. He takes the briefest moment to savor the feeling of tight heat all around him at the top, and then grabs Bucky’s hips and gives him the pounding of his life.

It feels so hot, and so tight, and so _right_ , and all of Steve’s worry and anxiety and uncertainty over the past few weeks melt away with every stroke. It helps that Bucky is coming apart, his almost-incoherent babbling fueling Steve’s fire and increasing the intensity.

“Yes Stevie, fuck yeah, feels so good, love it when you fuck me, oh yeah, fuck, harder, don’t hold back, don’t, give it to me, give me, ahhhh...”

Steve’s ability to think coherent thoughts is decreasing as the molten heat in his gut rises.

He reaches around to grab Bucky’s dick, never stopping his rhythm, and reaches around to grab his dick, at the same time growling, “Come for me, Buck.”

Almost as soon as Steve starts stroking Bucky’s cock, Bucky’s back stiffens and he says in a very small voice, “Oh god, Steve, oh god...” Seconds later he starts coming in spurts all over the bed. Steve is a minute or two behind him, and he shifts his angle to hit Bucky’s prostate harder as he continues to shove into him. A groan-gasp comes out of Bucky’s mouth.

“Fuck yes, use me, Steve,” he wails. “I’m yours, take what’s yours, fuck that come into me.”

“Mine,” snarls Steve. “Miiiine...uunnhhh...” Light whites out the corners of his eyes as his orgasm overwhelms him. He drapes himself over Bucky’s back as he returns to himself and the aftershocks subside. He remembers seven years ago when Bucky had him in this position and bit his shoulder, but instead he peppers the back of Bucky’s neck with feathery kisses, savoring the feel of endorphins and skin-on-skin.

After a few minutes, Steve carefully pulls out and runs to the bathroom to toss the condom and grab a warm washcloth. When he comes back, Bucky has pulled back the comforter (which, to be fair, is a mess) and he’s lying on his stomach, facedown in a pillow.

“Bucky?” says Steve uncertainly, touching him gently on the shoulder. Bucky lifts his face to Steve. It’s red and blotchy, and he’s crying. Steve’s heart melts.

“Oh god, Buck,” he says, dropping the washcloth and sliding into bed to turn Bucky on his side and envelop him in a full-body hug. “I’m here, Buck, I’m here.” Steve kisses him, tasting the salt on his lips and face, then pulls back a little to look at him, savoring this moment of holding and comforting the person he loves best in the world.

Bucky looks at him with drowned but beautiful blue-grey eyes.

“I missed you so much,” Bucky says, sniffling. He pauses for a moment, then reaches up to cradle Steve’s face with his free hand as he looks at him.

“I love you so much, Steve,” he says, moving his fingers through Steve’s hair to caress the back of his neck.

Something breaks loose in Steve and he chokes out a sob. His heart, which has weathered so much hurt and doubt and frustration for the last few weeks - for the last seven years - for the last 22 years? - expands in his chest and he feels like it’s emitting light through his ribs.

“I love you too, Buck,” he says, voice cracking. “More than anything.”

Bucky’s smile is luminous as he leans forward to kiss Steve and wrap his free hand around his back, and in his own bed, in his lover’s arms, Steve feels...home. He’s home.

*****

An eternity later, or maybe it’s just ten minutes, Steve pulls back from their kissing just to look at Bucky, to savor the sight of his face and the feeling of being close to him. He runs his thumb over Bucky’s mouth, red and kiss-swollen, and remembers his split lip and bruised cheek and all the events of the last few weeks coming rushing back. He lets out a huge sigh.

“Oh god, I was so worried, Buck,” he says frankly, his thumb caressing over Bucky’s cheek. “Wondering if you were OK...if he’d found you...if you were hurt...” He finds he can’t say Pierce’s name out loud.

A shadow passes over Bucky’s expression and he leans into Steve’s touch.

“I know,” he says just as honestly. “I was scared shitless myself, going back there that night, but I had to find out what was happening at Hydra, I had to see for myself whether things were above board or not.”

He’s clearly not done talking and Steve just waits, threading his fingers through Bucky’s hair, putting out the most comforting vibes he can.

“After I left you, I crept back to the office and started digging in the files,” Bucky continues. “I found all kinds of illegal stuff about the Shield deal, of course, as we suspected after seeing Pierce and Rumlow together. But then I wondered about other past deals, and started to try to access those files. It was tough...they were...”

“...booby-trapped?” Steve finishes his sentence for him. Bucky looks at him in surprise.

“Yeah,” he says. “How’d you know?”

Steve smiles and says, “I’ll tell you later. Keep going.” And he skims his hand gently down Bucky’s scarred left bicep.

“Anyway,” Bucky goes on. “I finally got access but then I heard the office door open...”

“Oh shit,” Steve says, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “Quick as I could I turned my light off, grabbed my laptop, and hid in the hall closet. It was Pierce, coming back to the office for something.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“I was terrified,” Bucky says. “I knew if he caught me there, especially with everything I had open on my laptop, I was done. But he went straight to his office and closed and locked the door. So still in the closet, I opened my laptop and uploaded all the files to a secure, untraceable cloud account I have...”

Steve snorts out loud, and Bucky looks at him.

“What,” says Bucky. Steve grins and shakes his head.

“Just finish your story and I’ll tell you,” he says, partly because he doesn’t want to distract Bucky, and partly because he’s a little shit. Bucky looks at him through narrowed eyes for a second but continues.

“So once I uploaded everything, I got the hell out of there as quickly and quietly as I could,” says Bucky. “I went back to my apartment and started looking at those booby-trapped files.” He exhales audibly.

“There was all kinds of crazy stuff in there - not just insider trading and fraud, but blackmail and extortion,” Bucky says. “I didn’t find out about the murders until later. Anyway, as soon as I saw those files, I kind of freaked out. I wanted to call you, of course...”

Steve grimaces sympathetically and squeezes his shoulder.

“...but I’d trashed my extra phone and I didn’t want to call you from my work phone,” Bucky goes on. “And besides, I didn’t want to drag you into the quagmire I was in.”

“Bucky,” says Steve softly, going back to caressing his hair.

“Yeah, I know, you wanted to be in the quagmire with me,” says Bucky, rolling his eyes. “Cause you’re the dumbest man alive, with no sense of self-preservation at all.”

Steve chuckles. “Yep,” he says, because he really is that little shit. He leans in and plants a sweet kiss on Bucky’s mouth. They kiss for a few minutes, then Bucky pulls back.

“Stop distracting me,” he says, his grin and not-very-pissed-off voice belying his words. Steve shoots him a look that says _you can’t make me_.

“Anyway,” Bucky says, trying to stay focused, “I hung out at my place for a while and wondered what to do. Finally I decided to call a friend of mine - she’s a senior litigator at the SEC, I met her a few years ago when I was brought in as an outside expert on a case - and ask her. But I couldn’t call her from my work phone, in case that was being tracked.”

“So...” Bucky says wryly. “I went out and found a Link a few blocks away, and basically hotwired it to call her from an unknown number. This was around 1 AM, by the way.”

“Did she pick up?” asks Steve, thumbing over the hickeys he’s left on Bucky’s collarbone.

“Miraculously, yes,” Bucky says, frowning. “Turns out this wasn’t her first anonymous call in the middle of the night reporting shenanigans. We talked for a few minutes, and she asked me to meet her at the SEC office as soon as possible. I turned over my laptop and the files there, and she made a few other calls to the FBI and NYPD and set me up as an anonymous whistleblower, and then they raided the office early that Friday morning, as you probably saw on TV.”

Steve nods, remembering that first breaking news alert on CNBC in Fury’s office. “So you were the anonymous whistleblower the news kept referring to, huh?”

“Yeah, I was the first,” admits Bucky. “But as the investigation went on, half a dozen more people came out of the woodwork with accusations against Pierce and Schmidt and Zola. The authorities talked to the press like it was just one whistleblower to protect us.”

“Oh wow,” says Steve in a relieved voice. But something is still bothering him. He wonders how to bring it up, then decides to just be direct.

“Bucky,” he says straight out, “Did you find any files that implicated you? I was so worried...”

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “A whole set of faked documents with my name all over them. Yeah,” he says, propping himself up on his elbow. “Made me look like the mastermind behind all the illegal activity. I found those almost right away and practically passed out.”

He settles his hand on Steve’s waist and looks mildly uncomfortable. “I, uh, I...I permanently deleted those right then,” he stumbles out. “I guess I panicked.”

Bucky looks at Steve, a little pink in the cheeks. “Maybe I should’ve turned them in too, but I was determined not to go down with Pierce.” His eyes widen a little and he says, “You understand, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” says Steve with a sigh of relief. “When I heard about those files, I was so worried...once I was pretty sure Pierce hadn’t horked your dead body into a dumpster, I thought he might have gotten you arrested on all the fake charges...”

“Oh my god, Stevie, you and your imagination,” chuckles Bucky, kissing the top of Steve’s head. “Dead in a dumpster, Jesus...” He stops for a minute and then looks intently at Steve.

“Hey, wait, how’d you know about those files?” Bucky asks, cocking his head. “The authorities never found them and they never came out in the news.”

Steve can feel himself turning red to the roots of his hair.

“We, uh, I, uh, we...we hacked into Rumlow’s laptop that Friday after you and I saw him with Pierce,” he stammers out. “It wasn’t my idea, but...”

“Course it wasn’t your idea, Stevie,” says Bucky, rolling his eyes. “Lemme guess...Natasha?”

“Uh, yeah,” says Steve ruefully, too stunned at the accuracy of Bucky’s guess to prevaricate. Not that he can lie for shit anyway.

Bucky grins. “Thought so,” he says. “I knew Natasha way back when, at a time when her... business interests...were somewhat less conventional.” His eyes are sparkling, but he doesn’t elaborate. “So she hacked into Rumlow’s computer and found the Shield files, huh?”

“Yeah,” says Steve, his head spinning. Bucky knows Natasha? _What the hell_. “But when the news broke later that day, Nat eighty-sixed the files and let the Feds do their job.”

“She must’ve somehow permanently deleted those files implicating me from the Shield server and Rumlow’s laptop,” says Bucky thoughtfully. “Because they impounded all his electronics and never found those.” He scratches his head.

“Well, it’s not surprising,” Bucky continues. “She always was a whiz with computers. And now I owe her a drink. Or dinner. Or, like, a Corvette or something.” He smiles at Steve and his eyes are soft.

Then his eyes go mischievous and he pulls Steve over on top of him and they start kissing again. Steve can feel his dick stirring and he’s about to suggest further defiling his comforter cover when both their stomachs rumble at the same time. They pull apart, look at each other, and laugh and laugh.

“C’mon, Buck,” says Steve when they’ve caught their breath. “I’ll make you some dinner.”

*****

“Jesus, Stevie, you don’t have to cook a fuckin feast or anything,” says Bucky, sitting at the kitchen island and fiddling with his wine glass. He is wrapped up in Steve’s coziest fleece bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy socks and looks ridiculously adorable.

Steve rolls his eyes at him and turns back toward the stove. He’s thrown on some pajama bottoms and a long-sleeve t-shirt, to protect himself from splatters more than for decency.

“It’s just an omelette, Bucky, it’s not like a four-course meal or anything,” Steve returns, loosening the egg around the side of the frying pan.

“But you’ve got the oven on and everything,” says Bucky before taking a sip of wine.

“Yeah, I threw some garlic bread in there to go with the omelettes,” Steve says patiently. “I’ll sauté some spinach to go with them. It’ll all be done in a couple of minutes.” He folds the egg over.

“I never cook,” says Bucky, leaning his chin on his hand and looking at Steve with teasing eyes. “So any attempt at it is pretty impressive.”

“Never too late to learn, Buck,” Steve says loudly, plating the omelette and throwing the greens in the pan. A few minutes later they’re sitting at the dining table eating and drinking their Pinot Noir.

“This is tasty,” Bucky remarks airily with his mouth full.

“Don’t act so surprised,” says Steve dryly. “I’ve lived alone for a long time and you get tired of takeout.” As he mentions living alone he thinks of how happy he is that Bucky’s here right now, but because he’s Steve, world’s greatest worrier, he also wonders what’s coming up next for Bucky and - critically - where he’ll be staying.

“So Bucky,” he says with an attempt to sound casual that fools neither of them, “What are you doing right now? I mean, do you have to go back to Manhattan tonight or Monday or...” he trails off and feels both lame and vulnerable.

Bucky seems to sense some of this, and he reaches over and rubs Steve’s back with his free hand.

“I have to go back to the SEC on Monday morning,” he says quietly. “I think I’ve got another week or so with them before I’m done.” He takes a sip of wine. “And for security and convenience they’ve got me staying at the Hilton near their office.”

Bucky puts down his wine glass and throws his hands up. “A Hilton! And a regular Hilton too, not even a Conrad or an LXR. Can you imagine? It’s been hell, let me tell you, sheer hell.”

Steve snorts out a laugh and says, “Oh my god, you are such a snob, Barnes. Like we’ve never stayed in worse hotels in our consulting days.” He punches Bucky on the shoulder.

“Speak for yourself,” retorts Bucky. “Anyway, I haven’t been at my apartment for a while...mostly for security...the FBI was worried about reprisals from Pierce or his goons.”

Aaaaand...now Steve is worried about this too. He frowns at the garlic bread left on his plate.

“Are you safe, Buck?” he says in a low voice, barely restraining himself from getting up and closing the curtains on the slider and checking his house for intruders. “I mean...he’s still free and he could...still come after you.” Steve finds he still can’t say Pierce’s name, and his Mama Bear instincts spike.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m OK,” Bucky says quickly. “I have 24/7 protection in Manhattan and when I mentioned I was coming out here tonight, they arranged to have regular surveillance on your place.”

He reaches over and caresses Steve’s hair. “I’m safe, Stevie, you don’t have to worry,” he says softly.

But of course Steve is going to worry. He finishes his garlic bread and the last of his wine and says, “You want anything else to eat? Any dessert?” Bucky shakes his head.

“Thanks, though,” Bucky says, and sighs. “I do wonder what I’m gonna do next, though,” he says. “I mean, they didn’t file any charges against me but now I’m unemployed and my last job was with what turned out to be a criminal syndicate. I’m kinda persona non grata in the financial world right now.”

“You are brilliant and talented, with a ton of experience,” replies Steve loyally. “I’m sure you’ll have your pick of offers soon.” He briefly considers telling Bucky about his decision to leave the corporate world but decides it’s not the right time.

“Maybe,” says Bucky doubtfully. He looks squarely at Steve. “I’m also not sure about a permanent living situation after next week with the SEC. I don’t really want to go back to my place. Besides the fact that Pierce knows where I live, it’s just...got too many bad memories.”

“You could stay here,” Steve blurts out. So much for playing it cool, though Steve has never been known for playing much of anything cool. His cheeks go pink.

“Ugh, in Brooklyn, are you kidding?” Bucky teases. But then his expression softens. He smiles, a tender light in his eyes, and leans over to leave a lingering kiss on Steve’s mouth. Steve closes his eyes.

“That’s really sweet of you, Stevie,” Bucky continues as he pulls back. “But seriously, I’m a complete mess right now. And I don’t want you to have to deal with my mess.”

“What if...what if I wanted to deal with your mess,” Steve stammers out.

“No, seriously, Buck,” he continues in response to Bucky’s doubtful expression. He stands up and pulls Bucky up with him. “I love you. I _love_ you. That means I want to be there with you, to support you through the tough times...” he rubs his hands down Bucky’s fleece-covered shoulders, “...and to celebrate the good times. And all the stuff in between.”

Bucky’s eyes darken and he takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him. His hands roam all over Steve’s hair and neck and upper body, and Steve feels like he’s drowning, in the best possible way. As Bucky’s lips travel across his cheek to his ear, Steve whispers, “Take me upstairs and make love to me.”

Bucky bites into Steve’s neck just below his ear in response, and then he takes Steve’s hand and pulls him toward the staircase.

*****

Upstairs, Bucky gently but firmly takes control. He pulls Steve’s t-shirt over his head and slides his pajama pants down his legs, making sure to run his hands over Steve’s thighs. He gets Steve out of his socks, then still kneeling, takes off his own. He unties the bathrobe so that as he stands up it falls off his shoulders.

Steve’s pupils dilate as he takes in the sight of Bucky’s magically naked body. “Talented,” he says, but it comes out as a croak.

Bucky smiles crookedly, then leans in and cradles Steve’s balls at the same time he sucks a hickey into his collarbone, earning him a sharp intake of breath.

“Yes I am,” Bucky whispers against the crook of Steve’s neck. He doesn’t stop kissing Steve’s neck as he pushes him backwards toward the bed. When the backs of Steve’s knees touch the mattress, Bucky guides him gently down onto the sheets with his head on a pillow and then carefully kneels in between Steve’s legs.

Steve is almost mesmerized. Bucky is coming across so gentle and soft, but is also in complete control. He’s clearly going to take Steve apart, but with love and not with commands. Steve feels like he’s floating. His dick is already fully erect.

Bucky notices this and his eyes light up. “Very nice, Steve,” he murmurs. “Your cock is just so beautiful.” Steve’s beautiful cock twitches in response, and Bucky runs his fingers lightly along the shaft.

“I need you to spread your legs wide for me now, Steve,” Bucky says casually, nudging Steve’s inner thigh with one knee.

Steve obeys, and looks up at Bucky, eyes cloudy with want. Bucky’s face is angelic, but his torso is pink and splotchy with heat and his dick is as hard as Steve’s. He leans over, closer to Steve’s face, so their erections are almost touching.

“Good boy, Steve,” Bucky whispers, and earns another dick twitch. Bucky licks across Steve’s open bottom lip and then reaches over to the nightstand drawer for the lube. He pulls it out and doesn’t bother shutting the drawer before returning to lick over Steve’s mouth again. This time he purposely rubs their cocks together and smiles at the uptick in Steve’s breathing.

Steve tries to spread his legs even further and rasps out, “Open me...open me, Buck.”

Bucky lays the ghost of a kiss on Steve’s lips and whispers, “Of course, Steve, whatever you want, my love.” Steve hears the lube squirt and then feels Bucky’s finger probing at his hole. A wave of heat washes over him as Bucky breaches him and slowly pushes his finger all the way in. Time seems to stop as Steve feels Bucky penetrate him with two fingers and then three. He feels like he can barely breathe.

“Steve, I need you to talk to me,” Bucky says, quiet but firm. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.” At this directive Steve’s mouth falls open and he groans.

“So good, Buck,” he gasps. “So full. But please...” words fail him and he pauses.

“Please what, Stevie,” says Bucky in that commanding voice.

“Please...please...please fuck me,” Steve manages to stammer out, trying to bear down and get more from Bucky’s fingers even as he says it.

“What a nice, polite way to ask,” remarks Bucky. He manages to reach over and grab a condom from the nightstand drawer without removing his fingers from Steve’s ass. Then quick as a wink he pulls them out, opens the condom, and smoothes it on, pumping his shaft a few times. Steve feels his cock nudging at his loosened hole.

“Yes, Buck, yessss...” he hisses as Bucky breaches that ring of muscle and slides slowly into him until his lower abdomen is flush with Steve’s balls. He stays there for only a moment before starting to move in him with long, smooth strokes.

Steve can hardly believe how he’s feeling right now. His entire body seems like one big nerve ending and the sensation of Bucky lying on top of him, fucking into him, is incredible. He closes his eyes to lose himself in the feeling.

“Steve. Steven.” Bucky’s voice compels Steve to open his eyes. His face is inches from Steve’s, and he smiles when he locks his glance onto Steve’s.

“Steve, I’m gonna need you to come for me now,” says Bucky in a sweet voice edged with steel. His face is angelic but his pupils are blown. He reaches down between them to grasp Steve’s dick without breaking his rhythm...

...and after only a few strokes, Steve feels the heat travel down his ribcage deep into his gut and...

“Oh fuck, I’m coming, Bucky, FUUUUUUUUU—“ Steve arches off the bed and feels cum spurting between them on his stomach.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, Steve,” Bucky hisses as he picks up his pace. “Just so gorgeous...I...oh god...” and then Steve feels him pulse inside him as he’s tingling through the aftershocks and it’s just perfect.

They’re quiet for a minute, savoring the closeness, and then Steve looks up at Bucky and is suddenly overwhelmed. He feels wetness prickling in the corners of his eyes.

“God, I love you,” Steve says, and huffs a quiet sob as the tears overflow down his cheekbones to the pillow.

Bucky smiles and leans down to kiss him.

“I love you, Steve,” he murmurs against Steve’s mouth. Steve smiles through his tears, blissful.

*****

They shower and Steve hustles Bucky back into his fleece robe to keep him warm. As they’re changing the bed, Bucky bumps his thigh against the still-open nightstand drawer and looks inside.

“Stevie, what’s this?” Bucky holding up a little box. He shakes it and it rattles. Steve looks at it and turns bright red.

“It’s...it’s...” but he can’t get the words out. Bucky raises his eyebrows at him and opens the box. He grins at Steve.

“These buttons look familiar, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, teasing.

“They should,” retorts Steve, still blushing. “They’re the buttons I tore off your shirt a few weeks ago, Buck.” He huffs and looks at the ceiling and back at Bucky. “Including the one delivered by special messenger last Friday.”

Bucky’s still smirking. “Hey,” says Steve lamely. “They needed to be kept safe.”

Bucky snickers and says, “You’re such a sap, Rogers.”

“Yeah, and you love it that I’m such a sap,” counters Steve, snapping the clean case over the pillow with unnecessary energy.

“I really do love it,” murmurs Bucky as he puts the box back and flings himself across the bed toward Steve with his head back. “I really do.”

Steve replaces the pillow and bends to kiss Bucky’s proffered jawline upside down. He hesitates and broaches the one subject he’s still not sure about.

“Hey Buck,” he says, biting his bottom lip.

“Yeah, Stevie,” answers Bucky, turning over to look at Steve right side up.

“You said...you have to be back at the SEC on Monday,” Steve says slowly. “Can you...can you stay here tonight? With me?” He gulps a little over the last two words.

Bucky grins and rolls his eyes.

“Of course I can, Stevie,” he says, ghosting a kiss across Steve’s lips. “I can stay ‘til first thing Monday morning. But I didn’t bring any PJs. How’m I gonna stay warm without any PJs.”

Steve feels happiness coursing through his entire body.

“I’ll think of something,” he says, his eyes lighting up.

The next morning, Bucky’s sitting at his kitchen island in borrowed sweats and a t-shirt, just as Steve imagined the day before at brunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link is a New York City initiative to offer residents connectivity and wi-fi in public spaces in the city. City government has added these grey towers to the streets over the past few years as public pay phones have disappeared. 
> 
> I don’t actually know if the authorities offer protection and surveillance for whistleblowers. The SEC and the Sarbanes-Oxley Act of 2002 mandate that financial discrepancies and wrongdoing must be reported, but I couldn’t find anything that indicates they do anything to safeguard people once they do report. I added it here to make myself feel better about Bucky’s situation.
> 
> I basically listened to the Spring 3 movement of Recomposed by Max Richter: Vivaldi’s Four Seasons on repeat while writing this chapter. It sounds a little bit like the soundtrack for an 18th-century adventure film, but it’s also so hopeful and happy, with that little twinge of melancholy underneath...perfect.


	10. I’d Be Crazy Not to Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out loud, he says, “Thanks, Pepper, I just need to think about it, especially given all the... craziness in my life the last few weeks.” 
> 
> “I totally understand,” says Pepper. She grabs the iPad and pokes at it a few times. “I just sent a couple of files with more information to your personal email,” she says. “A profile of the Foundation and the job description.” Steve’s phone buzzes in his pocket, twice. 
> 
> “Just got it,” he says. “Thanks, Pepper. I really am excited and intrigued about this.” He gets up to shake her hand. “I’ll be in touch again very soon.” 
> 
> “Thanks, Steve,” Pepper says warmly. 
> 
> Steve shakes Tony’s hand. “Thanks, Tony.” Stark raises his eyebrows and points at Steve.
> 
> “Don’t wait too long on this one, Cap,” he says. “Chance of a lifetime.”
> 
> “I won’t,” says Steve, and takes his leave. As he’s riding down the elevator, brain going a mile a minute with the latest developments, he checks his phone to make sure Pepper’s documents came through. They’re there, in one text. The other text is from Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mention of suicide and past violent acts

“Hey Steve.”

Steve looks up from his desk. It’s Monday morning after his weekend with Bucky. Nat is standing in his doorway, wearing a black sheath dress with three-quarter sleeves and a red belt and knee-high black stiletto boots. It’s chillier out today and this is her version of dressing for the colder weather.

“Hey, Nat, how are you? Do you need me? Does Fury?”

“Yeah,” says Nat. “But not for another twenty minutes.” She hesitates and then says, “We missed you yesterday around here. Wasn’t the same without you.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. She’s not usually this awkward. Or this obvious.

“Yeah,” he says casually, mentally willing himself not to turn pink. “Something came up, so I couldn’t come in yesterday. I’ll stay late tonight.”

“Some...thing came up, huh,” remarks Nat, crossing her arms and staring at her.

“Yep,” says Steve, popping the “p” and staring right back. He knows from past experience that being direct but vague is the only way to deal with Nat’s fishing.

“Would that...something...be interested in coming over to our place for a late dinner tomorrow night,” says Natasha as she cocks her head.

“Not that kind of a thing,” Steve lies firmly. “But I’m happy to come over. Want me to bring anything?”

“Nah,” says Nat. “We’ll order from Dellarocco’s on the way home.”

“Excellent, I’m in,” says Steve. His phone buzzes on his desk, but he ignores it. Nat looks at the phone, then at him.

“Aren’t you going to check that,” she says, eyes twinkling.

“Nope,” Steve says, popping the “p” again. “See you in twenty minutes, Nat.”

She grins. “It’s fifteen minutes now,” she replies. “Don’t get distracted by...something...and show up late.” She raises one eyebrow and her mouth crooks up about three millimeters on one side. As she disappears he rolls his eyes at her.

Steve grabs his phone.

**Unknown Caller**

🍲

Steve grins at the emoji - he and Bucky went out for ramen for dinner last night down the street from his house and when they came home he’d fucked Bucky senseless on his living room floor. He’s tempted to text Bucky back something obvious like the eggplant or the peach, but he restrains himself.

Steve also wants to save the number in his Contacts but Bucky’s asked him to wait a few more days until his work with the SEC is concluded. He shakes his head internally about Bucky’s ongoing mania for privacy, but understands that at least in this case it makes sense, as Bucky’s trying to protect him from any dealings with the Feds.

Earlier this morning he and Bucky had showered together and grabbed some coffee and breakfast sandwiches on the way to the subway station. Bucky was back in his sweater and jeans from Saturday night (which Steve had washed for him), but was wearing an old, tight t-shirt of Steve’s underneath. Steve was wearing Bucky’s t-shirt as an undershirt under his oxford. They’d kissed goodbye at Fulton Street so Bucky could head back to his hotel before meeting with the authorities.

As he left the train, Bucky had whispered that he’d call Steve this evening and they could potentially have dinner together later this week. Steve is trying very hard not to count the hours until he hears from him. He thinks for a minute and then sends Bucky an emoji back.

**SGR**

👕

It’s not a t-shirt but it’s close enough. Steve fingers Bucky’s t-shirt under his collar and ducks his head to take a sniff. He purposely didn’t wash it over the weekend and it still smells faintly like Bucky’s body wash. Steve realizes he’s being a schmoopy idiot right now but he’s so crazy in love that he just doesn’t care.

PING

Steve’s Outlook calendar pops up and reminds him that he’s got a meeting with Nick and Nat in five minutes. He gathers his stuff and heads off to Fury’s office. As he walks down the hall his phone buzzes again in his pocket. He grins. It’s gonna be that kind of day.

*****

**_THE WALL STREET JOURNAL_ **

Online edition, Business section

Wednesday, October 16, 2019

**Leading Private Equity Firm Goes Into Bankruptcy, Will Shut Down**

By Miriam Gottfried

Top 20 private equity firm Hydra Advisors filed for chapter 7 bankruptcy today as it faced an uptick in investor lawsuits over the past five days. The firm’s senior partners were arrested and arraigned for securities fraud, insider trading, and bribery in the attempted takeover of Shield Corp (SHC) two weeks ago, and late last week CEO Alexander Pierce was indicted on further charges, including murder and attempted murder, associated with past takeover bids. Ongoing Federal investigations have uncovered late payments to major investors and levels of debt that are notable even for a private equity firm.

The investor lawsuits to date total more than twice Hydra’s existing assets under management, and a special financial advisor has been appointed to work with creditors and the authorities to sort out the firm’s financials and help settle these suits. An SEC spokesperson announced today that the criminal investigation against the firm is ongoing and that senior partners Johann Schmidt and Arnim Zola have been summoned to assist further with these charges. Schmidt and Zola are out from their charges on bond, but Pierce is being held in prison without bail...

**_THE NEW YORK TIMES_ **

Online edition, Business section

Thursday, October 17, 2019

**Private Equity Firm CEO Found Dead in Jail**

By Rachel Abrams

Alexander Pierce, CEO of leading private equity firm Hydra Advisors, was found dead in his jail cell early this morning. Authorities would not definitely announce cause of death, but a federal prison spokesperson stated that the evidence pointed to suicide and indicated an investigation is ongoing.

Pierce, 67, led Hydra Advisors for twenty years through a series of spectacular successes and shaped it into one of the top twenty private equity firms in the country. He was known for tactics that were aggressive even in the cutthroat world of private equity, and for the veil of secrecy he kept over his business and his personal life. This secrecy ended when authorities raided Hydra offices less than a month ago, following tips about criminal practices associated with the takeover of Shield Corp (SHC)...

**Read more about Alexander Pierce in our obituary: Alexander Pierce, Financial Maverick

*****

Steve strides into the architectural monstrosity hanging over Grand Central that is the Stark Industries building early Thursday afternoon and tries to project more confidence than he feels. It’s not that he’s intimidated by the building or the company - he knows Maria well (and Pepper Potts less well), and has been here a half-dozen times before - but he’s nervous about this meeting and the prospect of starting a new chapter in his life.

And, Steve acknowledges, he’s shaken by the morning’s news of Pierce’s suicide. He hated the guy, and remembers the blinding rage he felt when he saw Bucky’s bruised face and found out that Pierce had faked evidence to make Bucky take the fall for Shield if needed. He’s glad Pierce is no longer a threat to Bucky’s safety and freedom.

But the news of his death is jarring and disturbing, and Steve’s worried about how Bucky is going to take it. He knows that Bucky hated (and feared) Pierce, but he also worked for him for four years, and that creates a bond with someone. And he wonders if Bucky will somehow feel responsible for Pierce’s death, even though he wasn’t responsible for all the terrible things Pierce did.

Right now, though, Steve’s got a meeting with Maria about his future and he needs to focus. As he rides up the elevator to the executive floor, he pulls out his phone and texts Bucky.

**SGR**

_Got a big meeting, call you right after_ ❤️

He risks the heart, because fuck the SEC and fuck being cautious, he’s in love.

Steve comes out of the elevator and walks to the conference room where Maria asked him to meet her. He enters the room expecting to see her, only...

“Hey Steve.”

It’s Pepper Potts, looking angelic and impossibly chic in an immaculate white suit with a cape jacket. She’s standing at the end of the conference table, an iPad and a manila folder in front of her.

Steve smiles, surprised.

“Pepper,” he says, recovering his poise and moving forward to shake her hand. “Great to see you. I thought...”

“...that you were meeting Maria?” Pepper finishes his sentence for him with a gleam in her eye. They sit down at the table.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, Maria told me about your conversation last week,” Pepper says. “I know that discussion was private, but please don’t be angry with Maria for breaking that confidence.”

Steve is a bit nonplussed to hear this, and a little annoyed with Maria. But then he reminds himself that he needs help from his network to make this career change. Maybe Pepper can introduce him to some leaders of charity organizations?

“I...uh...no, that’s fine,” he stammers out.

“Let me get right to the point,” Pepper says briskly, cutting through his hesitance and confusion. “We think very, very highly of you here at Stark Industries, Steve. So when Maria told me you wanted to make a career change, I jumped in to grab you as soon as possible before someone else could.”

Steve’s head is spinning. “I...don’t...understand,” he finally manages say.

Pepper grins. “Janet Van Dyne is Senior Vice President for US Programs at the Stark Foundation,” she says. “But she’s retiring at the end of the year and I’m looking for her replacement.” She stares at Steve pointedly.

“Wait...you want...me?” Steve sputters. His brain is having trouble processing this turn of events.

“Yes, Steve,” Pepper says patiently, still grinning.

“But I’ve never helped run a major charity before,” protests Steve, his brain finally starting to work again. “And the Stark Foundation is huge! Don’t you want someone with more experience?”

“No,” says Pepper, shaking her head. “We want someone with excellent character and leadership ability, someone who inspires loyalty in their staff, someone who knows the right thing to do and isn’t afraid to do it.”

She leans over and drops the flat of her hand on the table in front of Steve. “Now are you going to advocate for yourself here, or do I have to do all the work in this interview?”

That lights a fire under Steve’s ass, and he feels a big smile spread across his face as he starts talking.

“Well, I think the Stark Foundation does a great job with its chosen focus areas,” he says. “But you could consider branching out to support more local charity organizations and veterans’ groups, especially considering SI used to be such a prominent weapons manufacturer...”

He goes on for a few minutes with some initial ideas about focus and fundraising, and by the end Pepper is positively beaming.

“I knew we were right about you,” she says, and presses a button on the desk. “We’re so excited by this possibility.”

“Who’s ‘we?’” says Steve. “You and Maria?”

A door hidden in the paneling opens behind Pepper and reveals Tony Stark himself.

“No, Pepper and me,” Tony says, swaggering into the room. He’s wearing beat-up jeans, a rumpled blazer, kicks, and an ancient Motley Crue t-shirt but Steve is willing to bet his outfit cost more than Steve’s by orders of magnitude.

“Mr. Stark!” Steve gets up to shake Tony’s hand. He’s only met Tony a couple of times at charity galas so he keeps it formal.

Tony frowns and goes “pfffft” as he sits down across the table.

“None of this ‘mister’ bullshit, call me Tony, please,” he says, fiddling with the folder. “What’s this ancient form of communication doing in my office?” Pepper rolls her eyes.

“It’s paperwork, Tony,” she says looking at Steve and shaking her head. “In case Steve wants to say yes right away.”

“Now hold on,” says Steve, getting overwhelmed. “This is an amazing opportunity and I’m really excited, but I’d like a week to consider. This is all... moving a little fast for me.”

“Of course, that’s perfectly fine, Steve,” says Pepper.

“C’mon Rogers, be spontaneous! Take the job now!” says Tony at the same time. Pepper rolls her eyes again and glares at Stark.

“Behave yourself, Tony, or I’m gonna have to punish you again,” she says in a quiet but absolutely commanding voice. Tony turns red and shuts his mouth.

_Wow_ , Steve thinks to himself. _Guess we know who the real boss is around here._

Out loud, he says, “Thanks, Pepper, I just need to think about it, especially given all the... craziness in my life the last few weeks.”

“I totally understand,” says Pepper. She grabs the iPad and pokes at it a few times. “I just senta couple of files with more information to your personal email,” she says. “A profile of the Foundation and the job description.” Steve’s phone buzzes in his pocket, twice.

“Just got it,” he says. “Thanks, Pepper. I really am excited and intrigued about this.” He gets up to shake her hand. “I’ll be in touch again very soon.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Pepper says warmly.

Steve shakes Tony’s hand. “Thanks, Tony.” Stark raises his eyebrows and points at Steve.

“Don’t wait too long on this one, Rogers,” he says. “Chance of a lifetime.”

“I won’t,” says Steve, and takes his leave. As he’s riding down the elevator, brain going a mile a minute with the latest developments, he checks his phone to make sure Pepper’s documents came through. They’re there, in one text. The other text is from Bucky.

**Unknown Caller**

_pls come over asap, room 4812_

*****

Steve knocks on the door of 4812 of the downtown Hilton. He took a cab from midtown but he’s a little out of breath from walking so fast through the lobby. The door opens, and Bucky shepherds him inside quickly. Steve stops inside the room and takes a look.

Bucky is white as a sheet but his face is blotchy and his eyes are red. He’s wearing an oxford and tailored trousers but the shirt is unbuttoned and shows just a hint of chest hair. He looks so forlorn that Steve’s heart melts.

“Oh Bucky,” he says, and pulls him into his arms. Bucky sobs against his shoulder for a few minutes while Steve hugs him tight and kisses into his hair. As his body quiets, Steve toes off his own shoes, gently guides Bucky over to the bed, and pulls him down with his arms around him to continue his comforting.

“He’s dead, Steve,” Bucky says into Steve’s jawline and takes a shuddering breath.

“I know, sweetheart, I saw the news earlier,” Steve says, caressing the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck. He waits.

“He was...awful, you know?” Bucky looks up at Steve and sniffles. “But he was my boss for four years, and he taught me a lot. I should feel bad, right?” Bucky casts his eyes toward the ceiling for a moment. “Why don’t I feel worse about this, Steve?”

Steve pulls his arm out from under Bucky so he can hold Bucky’s face between his hands.

“Hey Buck,” he says softly but earnestly, “However you feel, it’s OK. It makes sense that you’ve got a lot of weird feelings about this. There’s no ‘should’ here. Just go with how you’re feeling. It’s OK.” He kisses Bucky’s forehead.

Bucky takes a deep breath and stops. He obviously wants to say something but he’s hesitant. Finally he opens his mouth.

“This isn’t my fault, is it, Steve?” Bucky says in a very small voice. “I mean...I was the first whistleblower that started this whole thing...”

“Hell no, Buck, HELL NO,” says Steve in perhaps a louder voice than he intended. But he needs to drive this point home. He holds Bucky’s face again. “You did the right thing. You brought the wrongdoing into the light. Did you perpetrate all that fraud? Did you engage in insider trading?”

Bucky shakes his head.

“Did you bribe those people? Did you have those guys killed?”

Another head shake. _No_.

“Then this is not your fault, Buck,” insists Steve. “Pierce did all those things, and then he didn’t want to be held accountable when he got found out. This is all on him.” Steve drops his hands and hugs Bucky to him again.

“I’m just so glad you’re safe,” Steve murmurs against the top of Bucky’s head.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky says, nuzzling against Steve’s neck. Then he looks up at Steve. “And thanks for coming over. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”

Steve thinks about the huge meeting he just had with Pepper and Stark and is briefly tempted to tell Bucky about it, but decides that it can wait. He hasn’t said yes to anything, and this moment is all about Bucky and taking care of him.

“Nothing’s more important than you,” Steve says, smiling into Bucky’s beautiful eyes. “I’m always here for you, Buck, always.”

Bucky’s eyes darken and he latches his lips onto Steve’s in a gentle kiss that nonetheless hints at the dark passion behind it.

“Steve...” he whispers when he detaches. “Steve...” Their lips slide together again and soon Bucky is licking into Steve’s mouth, insisting that Steve open up for him. Steve obliges, feeling his stomach clench and the heat pool in his pelvis. They kiss and kiss until Steve feels his erection straining against his boxers. Bucky’s thigh pushes against it and Steve groans against Bucky’s mouth. He breaks away from Bucky and they both stand up to shed their clothes. Once they’re naked, Steve rakes his eyes greedily over Bucky’s body and his gaze comes to settle on his perfect cock.

“Can I...” whispers Steve, licking his lips. “Please, Buck...” He looks into Bucky’s face, cheeks pink, pupils blown.

Bucky smiles. “Of course,” he says, leaning in to lick Steve’s lips as well. Steve gently pushes Bucky back down on the bed, kissing him all the while, and then lays a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his torso. When he gets to Bucky’s crotch, he inhales the smell of musky skin combined with expensive body wash before licking a stripe from balls to tip. Bucky gasps.

“Fuck...yes...Steve...” he moans, canting his hips upward. Steve wraps his fingers around the base and his lips around the head and slides down. Bucky’s thick cock fills his mouth and he opens his throat to take as much of it as he can. As he swallows him down, he looks up at Bucky’s face. Bucky’s eyes are half-closed and his mouth is open and a litany of almost-nonsense is spilling out along with all the gasps and heavy breathing.

“Oh fuck...yeah...love to fuck your beautiful mouth, Stevie...feels so warm and wet...yeah, suck me harder...gonna shoot all my come down your throat...uhhhh yes so good...” All of which goes straight to Steve’s own dick as he kneels between Bucky’s legs.

At one point Steve moves his fingers down to glide over Bucky’s balls and gently teases his pointer finger down to caress around Bucky’s hole. Bucky gives a tiny shriek and an “Oh...god...” and the next minute he’s pulsing and shooting warm cum into Steve’s mouth.

Steve willingly swallows it all but makes sure to leave a little at the corner of his lips. He gives a tiny lick around the corona of the glans just to hear Bucky’s breath catch with overstimulation and then hurries up to kiss Bucky so he can taste himself. Bucky licks off that drop and then buries his tongue in Steve’s mouth to get any remaining jizz.

“Steve, you are amazing,” whispers Bucky between kisses. Steve just groans and grinds his erection against Bucky’s thigh. Bucky laughs. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll take care of you, baby. Do you want to fuck me? Or for me to suck you off?”

Both of these options sound amazing to Steve but at this point he is so hyped up after blowing Bucky that he doesn’t think he can hold out.

“Can’t...wait...can you...just...jack me off,” Steve stammers out, nuzzling his face against Bucky’s cheek and licking down his jawline.

“Of course, love,” murmurs Bucky, and wraps his graceful fingers around Steve’s long, thick cock. He thumbs over Steve’s slit to spread the beads of moisture leaking out around the head and then starts stroking in earnest.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, Stevie,” Bucky says against Steve’s ear a few minutes later. Steve is lost in the sensation of the drag along his shaft but manages to grunt out “Uh huh.” He tips his head back. Bucky licks down his neck.

“Come for me,” Bucky whispers into the skin covering Steve’s trapezius muscle. “Come for me now, Steve.” And he bites into Steve’s collarbone to leave a mark.

The faint sting of pain courses through Steve’s nervous system and it’s enough to send him over the edge with a cry. He comes in spurts over his stomach and Bucky’s hand. As the aftershocks hit him he looks at Bucky, who is looking back at him with gleaming eyes and sucking the cum off his hand. Steve’s not sure he’s seen anything hotter in his life.

Bucky leans in and kisses Steve as he comes down.

“Thank you, Steve,” he says softly as they press their bodies together on the bed. “You’re the best.” Steve kisses Bucky’s forehead.

“You OK, Buck?” he asks, staring intently at his lover. He wants to be here for Bucky, wants him to know that he’s loved and supported.

Bucky looks back at him and sighs.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s still...weird. And hard. But knowing you’re here makes things less weird. And easier.”

Steve pulls him close.

“I have a meeting with Fury at 5,” he says. “But I’ll be home later tonight. Can you come over? I can cook you a late dinner.”

Bucky shakes his head.

“I have to meet with Bharara at 5,” he replies ruefully. “And then there are more papers to go over with some SEC folks. It’ll go late tonight. But I think I’ll be done with the authorities tomorrow...and I’d love to come over this weekend if that works...?” Steve’s expression brightens at this news.

“Of course it works,” he says, and kisses Bucky’s cheek. “You are welcome anytime, love. And I’m psyched all this will be over for you so soon.” His eyes go mischievous. “No more mid-level Hilton hotels for you, my fancy friend.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Ha fucking ha,” he says, cuffing Steve on the shoulder. “I certainly won’t miss this place.” Then his eyes go wicked. “Although...” he continues, “it has its benefits, it’s not a bad location for some afternoon delight with a hot dude who comes running over when I call...”

And with his, he runs his hand down Steve’s back to squeeze his ass cheek. Steve’s breath catches and he leans in to fasten his lips onto Bucky’s.

After several minutes of making out, Steve feels Bucky’s cock start to stiffen against his leg. He pushes his thigh forward and Bucky lets out a “hahhhh...” He smiles against Bucky’s mouth.

“We have a whole hour before I need to head back uptown,” he murmurs, feeling Bucky’s hot breath mingling with his. The corner of Bucky’s mouth curls up in his signature crooked smile.

“I can think of a lot of fun things we can do for an hour,” Bucky says, and grinds their crotches together.

Steve inhales sharply and he feels those familiar stirrings deep in his gut.

“Me too,” he manages to spit out, and leans forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to find examples of a private equity firm going bankrupt, but honestly, I couldn’t. Private equity firms have caused a lot of other companies to go bankrupt (and cut a lot of jobs, particularly in the retail sector - google Toys ‘R’ Us for a really egregious example), but because they make money no matter what, they can generally avoid huge financial problems. It’s a pretty terrible business, honestly. But if Hydra were a regular company taking a nosedive, this is a scenario that could happen (though not the suicide part, eek). 
> 
> Private equity firms carry huge amounts of debt in the companies they invest in for a number of reasons, but primarily to shield their profits from taxes. This can be a risky strategy, especially if interest rates rise and that debt becomes more expensive to service. Or if, like Hydra, you’re suddenly hit with lawsuits from investors. 
> 
> I have *never* been good at capturing Tony Stark on the page, so apologies for his weak-sauce portrayal here.


	11. Follow Where You lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky snorts but his cheeks go a little pink too. He goes quiet and watches Steve make endless waffles while he drinks his coffee.
> 
> “So, you’re really done with the Feds?” says Steve. He asked this question last night as well, but just wants to hear the answer again.
> 
> “Yeah, Stevie, I’m really done,” Bucky says again gently, patiently. “All the paperwork got signed and processed yesterday. It’s all finished.”
> 
> “And you really don’t have testify at Schmidt’s trial? Or Zola’s? Or Rumlow’s?” Steve persists. 
> 
> “I really don’t,” says Bucky, shaking his head. “All my witness information has been submitted and the FBI found so much evidence onsite at Hydra that they hardly needed it.” He reaches over the island to touch Steve’s arm. “It’s gonna be OK,” he says. “I’m free. Really.” 
> 
> Steve exhales a breath he hardly knew he was holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: cute af domestic scene involving brunch foods

**Sam Wilson**

_Hey man how’d the meeting go_

**SGR**

_Really good. Surprising_

**SGR**

_Call me_

“Hey man, talk to me!” Sam says when he calls three minutes later.

“Hold on,” says Steve, and gets up to close his office door. It’s Friday, the day after he met with Pepper and Stark and went to Bucky’s hotel. He’s excited about the job prospect, and even more excited about Bucky coming over this weekend, but also a little overwhelmed by it all.

“So it went really well,” Steve starts. “Uh...like...super well.” He hesitates, then blurts out, “Sam, they want me to help run the Stark Foundation. Offered me the Senior Vice President of US Programs job.”

There’s a silence on the line for a few seconds, then...

“Hoh. Lee. Shit,” Sam manages to stammer out. “Fuckin a, Steve, fuck!”

Steve laughs weakly. “My thoughts exactly,” he says. “Though happily I didn’t say that to Pepper Potts and Tony Fucking Stark.”

“Wait, what??” Sam yells. “You met Tony Stark??”

“I mean, I’ve met him once or twice before, but yeah,” Steve says. He gives Sam a brief rundown on the meeting yesterday.

“Holy shit,”Sam says again, and Steve can tell that he’s shaking his head and grinning like a maniac. “Steve, that’s amazing! You’re gonna accept, right?”

“I don’t know,” says Steve. “I went in there just expecting to meet with Maria and get some leads or contacts. And with everything that’s happened at Shield...it’s a lot, Sam.”

“Yeah, Cap, I get that it’s a lot,” Sam says impatiently. “But this is your dream job, dude. This is everything you told me you wanted last month. And at the Stark Foundation! You can’t just walk away.”

“I know,” Steve says, turning it over in his mind again. “Actually, Sam, I had some ideas about where I could take things, start expanding the Foundation’s focus to more local stuff, more support for veterans...”

“That’s my boy!” says Sam with delight. “See, you’re already a natural. This is fate, Cap, it’s meant to happen.”

“Well, I dunno...” Steve starts, but Sam interrupts him again.

“Well, I do,” he says decisively. “Go get it, man.”

“I’m not sure...” Steve starts, and then stops. He realizes he was about to tell Sam that he’s not sure what Bucky will think, how he’ll take it, and then he remembers that Sam doesn’t know anything about Bucky. “I’m not sure if I’m ready,” he finishes lamely.

“Pepper Potts and Tony Fucking Stark offered you the job, right?” Sam is relentless.

“Yeah,” Steve rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, there was paperwork and everything.”

“There you go,” says Sam. “If they think you’re ready...and man, I’m so psyched to start working with you on those veterans issues.”

“Let’s not jump the gun,” Steve says dryly. They shoot the shit some more and then hang up.

*****

“How many waffles you want, Buck?” Steve turns to his lover as he finishes stirring the batter. There’s bacon in the oven and Steve’s entire house smells like a diner.

“Just a few,” Bucky answers, picking up his coffee mug. He’s wearing Steve’s sweats and t-shirt, even though he’s brought his giant suitcase over from the Hilton and now has his own pajamas. It’s late Saturday morning and the late October sun shines brightly through the slider.

“Well I made batter enough for like 18, so maybe more than a few?” Steve smiles as he brings the batter over to the island and pours it into the heated waffle maker.

“Oh my god, Rogers, are you spoiling me? Or just feeding me up to prepare me for ritual sacrifice?” says Bucky in a faux-whine, though his eyes are dancing.

Steve dances around the island to envelop Bucky in a huge hug and kiss him.

“You’ve been through a lot of shit in the last few weeks and you just finished giving key testimony to the federal authorities yesterday,” he points out. “I think you deserve some serious spoiling, Buck.”

“Besides,” he continues, grinning wickedly. “You’ll make the prettiest sacrificial victim ever.”

Bucky grins back and shoulder checks him.

“Shouldn’t you be checking those waffles, Chef Ramsey?” he says.

Steve ambles back to check on the waffles. They’re perfectly done, and he nimbly flips them onto a platter and into the oven to keep warm.

“Stick with me, young padawan,” he says, turning back to Bucky. “I will teach you the ways of the Force...and of achieving perfect waffles.”

“Fuck you, Stevie, you’re like four months younger than I am,” Bucky retorts, drinking more coffee. He’d wanted to go out and get a caramel macchiato but Steve had rolled his eyes and said he could live with regular dark roast so he’s dumped three teaspoons of sugar and a healthy slug of heavy cream into his mug.

“But so much more mature,” Steve counters, smoothly pouring more batter into the waffle maker. His heart is full and every bit of his body feels warm, and his brain is calm except for an excited little voice at the back of his head that keeps up a constant refrain: _Bucky’s here, Bucky’s at my house, Bucky’s with me for the entire weekend, Bucky’s here..._

He remembers briefly that even just a month ago he didn’t trust Bucky, as much as he loved him and wanted him. But all that doubt is gone, it’s not the same Bucky who’s sitting at his kitchen island today - this is a new Bucky who’s been through the fire, who’s grown and changed, who values more important things than money.

“Uh huh,” says Bucky. “That’s why you were crying like a little baby earlier this morning.”

Steve goes pink but smiles as he thinks back to Bucky bending him across the bed and taking him apart after they woke up. Of course that had been after Bucky had arrived last night and Steve had ordered them takeout and then fucked Bucky slowly until he was begging.

“What can I say, Buck,” Steve murmurs. “Your dick has magic powers. Magic emotional powers.”

Bucky snorts but his cheeks go a little pink too. He goes quiet and watches Steve make endless waffles while he drinks his coffee.

“So, you’re really done with the Feds?” says Steve. He asked this question last night, too, but just wants to hear the answer again.

“Yeah, Stevie, I’m really done,” Bucky says again gently, patiently. “All the paperwork got signed and processed yesterday. It’s all finished.”

“And you really don’t have testify at Schmidt’s trial? Or Zola’s? Or Rumlow’s?” Steve persists.

“I really don’t,” says Bucky, shaking his head. “All my witness information has been submitted and the FBI found so much evidence onsite at Hydra that they hardly needed it.” He reaches over the island to touch Steve’s arm. “It’s gonna be OK,” he says. “I’m free. Really.”

Steve exhales a breath he hardly knew he was holding. “I just want you to be safe,” he says, putting another batch of waffles into the oven. “I know you can take care of yourself, but...”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” says Bucky with a cheeky grin “You like taking care of me.” Steve smiles sheepishly back.

There’s a brief silence and Bucky’s face changes; he looks like he’s trying to figure out how to say something difficult.

“So,” Bucky finally says. “I’m...uh...I’m putting my place on the market next week. I called the guy who sold it to me two years ago and he thinks we can get a decent price since it’s in such good shape.”

Steve’s heart beats a little faster but he tries to play it cool. He also feels a pang of sadness thinking about that impressive but coldly neutral penthouse where Bucky lived half a life while he worked at Hydra.

“Oh yeah?” he says carefully, pulling the bacon and waffles out of the oven to plate them. “That’s good news...right?” They move over to the table and start to eat.

“Yeah,” says Bucky after a few minutes, between bites. “I really don’t wanna go back there and I think I’m gonna need the cash flow since I’m ‘between jobs,’” he says sarcastically, with air quotes and a mouthful of waffles.

“You thought about where you want to go?” Steve pops a piece of bacon in his mouth. “You know you can always...”

“Yeah, I know, Stevie,” Bucky interrupts. “I can always stay here. But I really don’t wanna saddle you with...with this whole deal.” He gestures at himself.

“Buck, I’ve told you,” starts Steve, a little more vehement than he meant to be. He tries again. “I’ve told you,” he says more calmly, “I want to be saddled with your whole deal. I want to date you. I want to know what’s going on with you. I want to hang out with you. I want to have crazy sex, and marathon cuddling, and weekends away, and weekends in, and commutes into Manhattan where I make your lunch and kiss you goodbye on the subway.”

Steve stops, realizing he’s come on too strong. He drops his head and then looks up at Bucky.

“I love you, Buck,” he says, softer. “And I don’t mean to come on too strong, but I don’t want to wait, either. We’ve both waited long enough. I love you.”

Bucky smiles, sweet and sad, and drops his hand over Steve’s.

“I love you too, Stevie,” he says. “I don’t want to wait, either. But I don’t want us to rush into things and mess this up.” He lifts up Steve’s hand and kisses it.

“An old business school buddy just offered me a studio he owns on Orchard Street in the Lower East Side,” Bucky continues. “I can go month to month until...my situation stabilizes.”

Steve tries not to be too disappointed but he lowers his chin and looks at the table.

“Hey,” says Bucky gently, raising Steve’s chin so he can look him in the face. “That’s two stops on the F, it’s like ten minutes away,” he says. “We can hang out all the time.”

“Gonna hold you to that, Buck,” Steve says, his heart awash with conflicting emotions. “Especially since you’re gonna have all this free time,” he continues, teasing. “What else are you gonna do?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Are you sayin I should be your kept man, waiting around here or my new place while you’re at work?” He finishes the last of his breakfast, dragging his waffle around in the puddle of syrup on his plate.

“Well, I could think of worse things,” says Steve sarcastically. “You lie around here, eating bonbons and watching Dr. Phil, waiting for me to come home from work and ravish you.”

“That doesn’t sound terrible,” Bucky says, eyes dancing, as he steals the last piece of bacon off Steve’s plate and stuffs it in his mouth. “Especially since you still have a job and everything.”

“Yeah I do,” Steve says, “But...” and all his issues with the corporate world and his Thursday meeting at Stark Industries come rushing into his head. It’s finally time to share it with Bucky.

“But...?” prompts Bucky, staring quizzically at Steve.

“Buck, I’ve been thinking about a career change for a while now,” says Steve. “Even before the whole takeover thing, and all this drama just made me want to make the switch faster.”

He thinks about all the feelings he’s had about this for months, and wonders about trying to convey all that to Bucky, and decides that’s impossible, at least all in one go right now.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says. Their plates are empty, and he stands up and pulls Steve over to the huge leather couch in the living room. They sit down.

“Yeah,” says Steve. “I just...I want to help people and make a difference in the world, Bucky, and I felt like I wasn’t...I felt like...”

“Like most of what you were doing at Shield wasn’t really meaningful and was for the benefit of rich investors,” Bucky says dryly, grabbing Steve’s hand.

“Exactly!” Steve says, warming to the topic. “I feel like there’s so much more I could be doing for the world. Hey....how did you know?”

Bucky snorts. “Stevie, I’ve known you since we were ten,” he says, smirking. “You’ve always wanted to do what was right and fight for the little guy.”

“Oh yeah,” says Steve, grinning. “Anyway, I’ve been putting out feelers and I...I got an offer right before I came to your hotel on Thursday.”

“An offer? That’s awesome!” says Bucky, knocking their shoulders together. “Where? Or is that confidential? I don’t wanna break any agreement...”

“Well, there’s no agreement yet,” says Steve slowly. “And I want to get your advice before I do anything. And talk it over with you, because...because you’re my boyfriend and you get a say.”

Bucky smiles and leans over to give Steve a delicious, syrup-flavored kiss.

“Sweet Steve,” Bucky murmurs. “So who’s the offer from?”

“Tony Stark,” says Steve. “Well, and Pepper Potts. They want me to work for the Stark Foundation. Senior Vice President of US Programs.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open a little.

“Steve,” he says in disbelief. “When you said ‘offer’ I wasn’t quite thinking you’d gotten one of the most amazing jobs in philanthropy.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “What?” he says. “I mean, I know the Stark Foundation does really good work and they’re well-known and all...”

“Yes, that,” says Bucky. “But it’s one of the biggest foundations in the world and Stark gives his vice presidents huge rein to do what they want. I mean, sure he has a few demands, but mostly he leaves you alone. Janet van Dyne has had carte blanche more or less for fifteen years.”

“Holy shit,” Steve says, the magnitude of this offer overwhelming him again. “But...why me? I’m a lowly CSO, I don’t even run Shield, I’m just a fucking Army captain who did OK in the private sector.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Still selling yourself short, after all these years,” he says, hugging Steve to him. “You are a natural leader. People love you and look up to you. You work hard and you get results. You’ve climbed the ladder in two of the most brutal systems in the world and you’ve kept your character and your moral compass intact.”

Bucky holds him by the head and again forces Steve to look him in the face. “And you’re the best person I know,” Bucky finishes. “They want an amazing person for this amazing job. And you’re that person, Steve.”

Steve’s heart spills over and his eyes go shiny. “Thank you,” he rasps, his voice suddenly hoarse with emotion. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“Well it’s true,” insists Bucky. “I mean, it’s your decision, but I’d call Pepper back on Monday and accept. And besides,” he says, a mischievous smile crossing his face, “The Stark Foundation pays its people pretty well, so you can still afford to keep me in the style to which I’ve become accustomed.”

Steve grins and pulls Bucky to him. They kiss for a few minutes but before their makeout session can get too heated, Steve breaks it up and says, a little breathless, “You want to take a shower and go out? It’s a nice day, we could take a walk, catch a movie...”

Bucky’s smile is slow and his heavy-lidded stare is wicked as he answers, “Not really,” he says. “I mean, why should we go out when there’s perfectly decent entertainment right here...”

And he pushes Steve back into the couch.

*****

“Hey, Nick.” Steve enters Fury’s office with reluctant steps. It’s Tuesday morning after his weekend with Bucky. He took off from work early yesterday to walk the few blocks downtown and sign the paperwork with Pepper and Stark. But as excited as Steve is about this new opportunity, he’s not looking forward to this conversation.

Fury looks up from his laptop. “Rogers,” he says, indicating the chair in front of his desk. “You didn’t give a subject for this meeting. Should I get Natasha...?”

“No,” says Steve abruptly. “I mean, I’ll tell her after this, but I wanted this to be just you and me. So you’d be the first to know.”

Fury just stares at Steve. “Now you’re making me worry, Steve. What is it, bad news?”

“Well...” Steve starts, but finds he can’t go on. Nick never calls him “Steve” unless he’s concerned. Instead he mutely passes a manila folder across the desk. Fury opens it and reads the letter.

“Huh,” Fury says after a minute. He looks up at Steve. “I won’t pretend I’m happy about this, but I assume you’ve gotten a better offer elsewhere.”

“Well...” Steve starts again. “Better for me. Nick, I’ve been unhappy in corporate life for a while. Not working with you or the executive team - that’s been amazing. I just want a job that helps people in need...I’ve always done a lot of charity work.”

Steve takes a deep breath. “I got an offer to go help Tony Stark run his foundation, and I took it yesterday,” he says.

Fury raises his eyebrows so high that his left one is visible above the patch.

“Ah,” he says. “So a total career change, then.”

“Yeah,” says Steve, wishing he didn’t feel so terrible.

“I wish you’d told me about this earlier,” Fury says, leaning forward. “I could’ve helped.”

“I know,” says Steve wretchedly. “But by the time I was sure, the takeover bid had started and I was focused on supporting you. And I didn’t want to bother you with my personal issues.”

“Well, I’d never have known you weren’t happy,” says Fury in a voice tinged with regret. “You’ve been an exemplary CSO, Rogers, and we’re going to miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you,” says Steve, his voice a little emotional. “But I won’t be starting til the new year, so I’m available to stay for the next six weeks and ease the transition for the new CSO, whoever that is.” He looks at Fury.

“I mean,” he says apologetically. “If you want me.”

“Of course I want you,” says Fury. “I’ll take as much time as you can give me.” He stands up.

“We should go tell Natasha,” Fury says, businesslike. “And start planning that transition.” He starts to go for the door but then stops and turns to Steve, holding out his hand.

“Thank you for telling me first, Rogers,” he says gruffly. “You’re a hell of a great executive, and a great person. I hate to lose you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Steve gives Fury a hearty handshake, willing his eyes not to overflow. “I hope we can keep in touch.”

“Of course,” says Fury, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face. “I’m counting on you for an invitation to next year’s Stark Foundation gala. Best party in town.”

Steve grins. “Of course,” he says back.

Natasha doesn’t bat an eyelash when Steve and Fury tell her the news, but she does raise one perfect eyebrow a few millimeters. Then she turns to Fury and says, “We’ll go talk to Barton, Nick.”

On the walk down the hallway to talk to Clint, she stops and turns to Steve, lip crooked up.

“I knew, you know,” Nat says. Steve’s gut churns briefly. _What else does she know_ , he thinks in a panic.

“Oh yeah?” he says, as casual as he can manage.

“I knew you were unhappy,” she says. “You hide it pretty well, but I knew. I wish you’d told me. You know, as a friend.”

“I know,” says Steve, wretched again. “But with all the Hydra drama, I could hardly even think about how unhappy I was. I had to pitch in and support Fury.”His eyes go mischievous. “And hack into a laptop or two.”

“There’s my little shit Steve,” says Nat fondly. “I’m glad you’ve got your dream job and you’re happy. And it’s not just professionally happy either...”

Now it’s her eyes that gleam with mischief. “...you’re seeing someone, aren’t you? You weren’t in the office at all this weekend and you have that well-fucked look about you.”

“Nat!” Steve can’t help the outburst and tries in vain to keep from going pink. Natasha just looks smug and smirks through immaculate lipstick.

“It’s good,” says Steve hurriedly, trying to calm his flush. “But it’s...it’s new and I don’t want to talk about it.” If Nat knows Bucky from way back, as Bucky has told him, Steve will never hear the end of it from her.

Nat pauses for a few seconds.

“OK,” she says. “I’ll give you a grace period before inflicting dinner invitations. Speaking of which,” she grabs Steve’s arm and starts pulling him down the hall. “We have to go tell Barton. Let’s get this over with.” She sighs and continues.

“Twenty bucks on whether Clint says ‘awesome’ at least ten times and hugs you at least three?” Nat says as they approach Barton’s office.

“Oh, I am so not taking that bet,” Steve says, grinning and gearing up to tell Clint.

*****

“Are you sure about this?” Steve looks around the little restaurant not far from Stark Industries and Grand Central. It’s the third week in November and the lunchtime crowd surges around them, though Bucky’s managed to snag them a small table hidden in the corner, well away from the windows. In this way he hasn’t changed at all.

Bucky rolls his eyes and pops a fry into his mouth.

“Yes, Steve,” he says for the fifth time. “Natasha hates shawarma, we’re safe.” He eats another fry. “How come you’re so paranoid about Nat finding out about us?”

Steve shrugs and takes a bite of his falafel.

“She’s taken way too big an interest in my life - particularly my love life - since I met her three years ago,” he says in a low voice. Then he looks up at Bucky with a serious expression. “I just want a little privacy for a bit...so we can enjoy each other...see where this goes without an audience.”

“I get you,” says Bucky, stealing one of Steve’s falafels out of his sandwich. “But...” his eyes dance, “I’d totally enjoy you with an audience.”

Steve snorts. Good thing he wasn’t drinking his Coke just at that moment.

“Kinky fucker,” he mutters but he’s smiling as he says it. “I just don’t need to be under the Natasha microscope right now.”

“She can be...a lot,” agrees Bucky. “But she can be a lot of fun and you have to admit that she’s sexy as hell.”

Steve does a bit of a mental double take and his brain stutters to a halt.

“Bucky...” he starts. “Were you and Nat...did you...were you...together?”

“We hooked up a handful of times,” Bucky says casually. “She was...a little more adventurous back then. Not so interested in monogamy. She’s settled down a lot with Barton.”

“Oh my god,” Steve says, stealing three of Bucky’s fries. “So is this gonna be weird when you two have a reunion? I do a lot of social stuff with Nat and Clint, am I gonna hafta friend-break up with them...”

“Stevie, Stevie, relax,” says Bucky in thick Brooklynese. “It’s all ancient history at this point. Water under the bridge.”

“Okay,” says Steve dubiously. “But sometime you and I are gonna sit down and you’re gonna fill me in on what you’ve been up to so I don’t accidentally introduce you to other friends who are also your exes and it gets super awkward.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky smirks, taking a sip of his Coke. “So, how’s everything going at Shield with the transition?”

“Pretty well,” says Steve. “Darcy’s doing great - she’s gonna kill it after I leave.” Steve’s convinced Fury to promote his best team member into his role, even though she’s a few years younger than he is. It wasn’t too hard a sell, given how indispensable she’s become to both the Strategy and Finance teams over the past two months.

“That’s awesome,” Bucky says. “Any update on the CFO replacement?”

“Nah,” says Steve, shaking his head. “That’s been a...tougher process. The interim CFO‘s been holding things together but Fury wants someone with more experience, someone really brilliant at finance who can fix all the problems in the department, calm down the auditors, and gain back Wall Street’s confidence...”

Steve takes a deep breath and blows it out. “It’s been hard to find someone with those qualifications and the people that have them...aren’t really looking to deal with our baggage,” he says wryly.

“Hmm,” says Bucky, finishing his shawarma. “Well I hope you find someone soon.” He looks at Steve.

“By the way, I have a few leads on some jobs,” he says quietly. “A couple of strong possibilities. Fingers crossed.”

“Buck, that’s great,” Steve says, grabbing his hand. “Do you need me...do you want me to help at all?”

He says this out of habit rather than thinking he’s going to get the answer he wants. For a month now Steve has offered support in Bucky’s job search - looking at a resume, sharing his contacts - but Bucky’s been adamant that he needs to do this by himself. And he’s been tight-lipped about where he’s looking and what jobs he’s looking at.

Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand. “That’s sweet, Stevie,” he says, smiling. “But I really want to do this on my own.”

“OK,” says Steve, lacing his fingers through Bucky’s as he finishes his Coke. “Just...can you tell me...are you looking at anything in private equity? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to...I was just wondering...”

“Nah,” says Bucky shaking his head. “I’ve had enough of private equity at this point. Looking for something a little more...traditional. I mean I’m not gonna go save the world like some do-gooders I know...” he grins and brings Steve’s hand to his lips and kisses it. “...but I don’t feel like dismantling companies for profit anymore either.”

Steve exhales out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He hadn’t realized he was dreading finding out that Bucky wanted to stay in private equity. It’s a relief to know that’s off the table now. He’d love to know more about what Bucky is interviewing for - he’d love to know everything about what Bucky is doing - but he realizes that his boyfriend won’t go from secretive to completely open overnight. And that’s OK.

“That’s...that’s great, Buck,” he says with sincerity. “I’m so glad.” He looks around and sees that the lunch crowd hasn’t thinned out and a few people are eyeing their table now that they’re done.

“We should clear out, let others have a seat,” Steve says, putting on his coat and picking up his tray. They bus their trays and head outside. It’s cold and grey, with a tang in the air that smells like rain as they walk into Grand Central.

“So I’ll see you tonight? My place?” says Bucky, turning to Steve when they reach the subway.

(Steve is secretly thrilled that Bucky is taking the subway now, although Bucky insists that it’s because he’s “broke” and “not because of any socialist-man-of-the-people bullshit.” Steve’s evergreen reply: “...says the man who just sold an apartment for 15 million dollars.”)

“Yeah, sounds great,” says Steve. “You gonna cook me a four-course meal in that kitchen or what.” They often joke about the kitchen in Bucky’s studio on the Lower East Side, which is so small it can’t even fit a standard-size fridge.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky replies. “If by ‘four-course meal’ you mean ‘takeout from Golden Forest.’”

Steve rolls his eyes and hugs his boyfriend to his chest.

“See you around eight,” he says in Bucky’s ear, then kisses his cheek. “Text me.”

“You got it, sweetheart,” answers Bucky, doing the worst Bogart impression in the world and pointing finger guns at Steve.

And indeed, Steve has hardly reached the top of the escalator to walk back up Park Avenue when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

**That Idiot**

🍜🍤🥠

Steve grins and shakes his head, mentally preparing himself for yet another takeout dinner with his boyfriend.

*****

“Well, everyone,” Fury says in a regular voice that is nonetheless commanding. Everyone at the table focuses on him.

“This lunch is in honor of Steve Rogers, a great chief strategy officer, a great lieutenant, a great man,” Fury continues. “He’s a model of discipline, a master of tactics, a paragon of character and virtue. He’s served Shield Corporation well for the last three years, and it’s been my honor to work with him.”

Fury raises his glass and looks straight at Steve. “To Steve.”

“To Steve!” the table echoes, toasting him with Dom Perignon. Steve looks around at all of them: Darcy smiling broadly, Clint with a goofy grin, Natasha with the corner of her mouth crooked up, but fond instead of mocking. His closest work friends. He starts to get emotional and takes a deep breath so his voice doesn’t break.

“You guys,” he says with a little sniffle. “It has been such an honor and a privilege to work with all of you. I’m a little overwhelmed at all this...” He trails off and looks around, and his glance takes in the quiet opulence of La Grenouille and the very exclusive crowd, even at lunch.

“Anyway, I’m so happy I’ve had the opportunity to be your colleague. After today I won’t be your colleague anymore...” he sees Darcy wiping her eyes in his peripheral vision and resolutely refuses to look at her so he won’t lose it. “...but I’ll still be your lifelong friend.” He lifts his glass and takes a healthy swig.

“And besides,” Steve continues. “I’ll be working literally eight blocks away so I’ll be super insulted if none of you calls me to go to lunch.”

Everyone laughs and tucks into their food. Steve enjoys himself and he’s a little surprised about it. This kind of fancy place isn’t really his scene - Vinegar Hill House in Brooklyn is generally as chi-chi as he ever gets - but the food and champagne are excellent, as is the company. Natasha and Clint had wanted to throw him a big party with all their department staff but Steve had demurred, insisting on something small for his last day.

It’s mid-December and the New York Christmas season is in full swing. Steve is honestly not sure how Natasha managed to get them a prime table at one of the best French restaurants in the city, but then again, she did wangle BTS tickets for Rumlow’s assistant back in October...

Rumlow. A shadow passes over Steve’s eyes as he remembers the whole Hydra debacle. It’s not really that long ago but so much has happened since then that it feels a little more distant. A feeling which Steve is honestly grateful for. But it was a tough time and could have ended so much more disastrously. Still though...Pierce dead, Rumlow in jail without bail awaiting trial, Bucky out of a job but safe.

_Bucky_.

Steve smiles as he takes a sip of water. He still can hardly believe he and Bucky are a couple, especially after...well, everything. They spend four nights out of seven together, either at Steve’s house or Bucky’s studio, and each has toiletries and closet real estate at the other’s place. He still meets Nat and Clint for coffee at his house once or twice a week before they go into the office together, but Nat’s getting restless and when she gets restless, she starts digging. It’s only a matter of time before she finds out about Bucky.

And Bucky is close to getting a job. He told Steve at the beginning of the week that he had a final interview, but still wouldn’t say anything about it to Steve because “I don’t wanna jinx it.” Steve thinks it would be great if Bucky could get a job before the holidays, because then that 10-day trip to Barbados he’s planned for them over Christmas will be one of excitement and anticipation and not just debauchery. Well, it’ll mostly be debauchery anyway, but still...

After lunch, they walk the few blocks back to the office. Darcy latches onto Steve, and he gives her his arm because he’s a gentleman.

“Steve,” Darcy says, a little more fondly even than usual because it’s clear she’s enjoyed the Dom Perignon. “We are gonna miss you SO MUCH.”

Clint comes up on Steve’s other side and claps him on the back, then says, “Ouch” because he forgot his left wrist is in a cast.

(Clint’s sprained ankle finally healed up a couple weeks ago and three days later he fell in his own house and cracked a bone in his wrist. When Steve asked Nat what happened, she just rolled her eyes with a pained expression and said, “Don’t even, Steve.”)

“We really are gonna miss you, bud,” says Clint, leaning into Steve’s shoulder with his own. Clearly he’s had his share of champagne as well. They walk into the Shield building and back to the elevators.

As the group gets on the elevator, Nat turns Steve to face her, his back to the doors.

“Oh Steve,” she says, her eyes getting misty. “I can’t believe this is your last day, it’s been so great working with you.”

With anyone else, Steve would be touched, but this is Natasha so he’s a little worried. Has she been hitting the bubbly hard too?

“Nat,” he says uncertainly. “Are you OK?” The elevator dings and the doors open. Steve turns around and suddenly realizes they’re not on the executive floor when...

“STEVE!!!” A huge group of people is lining the hallway down to the main conference center, the one that Shield only uses for big company meetings. They’re all smiling and toasting him with drinks. He turns back to the lunch group in confusion to see Nat smiling and looking like the cat who got the cream.

“You didn’t really think we’d let you leave without a big party?” she says smugly.

Steve looks helplessly at Fury, who shrugs. “She’s in charge,” Nick says. They shepherd Steve down the hall to the meeting room, where dozens more people are waiting, along with hors d’oeuvres, holiday decorations, and a full bar in the corner. Steve sighs inwardly and gives in, plastering a big smile on his face as he starts talking and shaking hands with people.

An hour into the party, Steve has been handed more drinks than he can count and managed to hand most of them off to others. He’s wondering if it would be terrible if he pulled an Irish goodbye when someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns to see Fury standing there, Nat at his side.

“Hey Rogers,” says Fury. “I know you’re on your way out, but I wanted to introduce you to our new CFO. He isn’t officially starting til after New Year’s, but I thought this would be a good way for him to meet a lot of people informally.” A figure moves behind Fury and out steps...

...James Buchanan Barnes, his blue-grey eyes twinkling, looking like a million dollars in a tarty deep blue suit with a lavender shirt and a deep purple and gold tie.

For a few seconds Steve can’t speak. His brain has shorted out and just keeps stuttering over and over. At least his mouth is closed.

Bucky gives him a huge grin. “Great to see you, Steve.” He sticks out his hand, and Steve grabs it. Dazzled by Bucky’s smile, Steve smiles back.

“It’s great to see you too, James,” Steve says.

“Please,” says Bucky. “Call me Bucky.”

They can’t stop grinning at each other and Steve can’t stop shaking Bucky’s hand.

“Wait,” says Nat, and Steve has the supreme privilege in this life of seeing her look uncomfortable for once. “You two know each other?”

“Went to high school together, back in the day,” answers Steve, still smiling like he’s never going to stop.

“And now we’re dating,” says Bucky, casually throwing this bomb as he pulls Steve to him, kisses him lightly on the mouth, and hugs him close.

Steve’s heart is beating fast and feels so big it’s going to burst out of his chest. _Well_ , he thinks, _I guess this is one way to let everyone know_. He turns to Nat but doesn’t let go of Bucky.

“Yep,” he says, popping the “p.”

*****

Later that night they’re lying in Bucky’s bed in the afterglow. Steve is lying on his back, staring blissfully up at the ceiling, and Bucky is on his stomach, partially draped over him. At Steve’s request, Bucky has made love to him, sweet and slow, covering his entire body with his and kissing him senseless. The heat this has generated is impressive, and both of them are covered with a light sheen of sweat. They lie there, quiet and luxurious, for several minutes.

“Proud of you, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs in his ear. Steve turns his head.

“For what, coming on your cock?” he says, mouth crooking up.

Bucky grins. “Well, that too. No but really,” he says, his lips brushing Steve’s, “You’ve done a great job at Shield and you’re gonna do all kinds of great things at the Stark Foundation. I’m just...you’re such a great person and I’m still kinda surprised you want to be with me.”

Steve rolls his eyes and pulls Bucky close. “Are you kidding?” he says. “You’re amazing, Buck. Look at everything that’s happened over the last three months. It took serious balls to stand up to Hydra, and then you go and land a plum CFO job in the aftermath. You’re brilliant and you’re gonna help turn Shield around.” He kisses Bucky’s forehead.

“By the way,” Steve continues. “That was quite the way to tell me you’d gotten the job today... and to tell everyone else that we’re together.”

Bucky grins. “What can I say, I’m a drama queen.”

“That you certainly are,” Steve chuckles. “My drama queen.” He feels Bucky’s dick stirring, pressed against his thigh.

“Would my drama queen like me to help him celebrate his new job,” murmurs Steve, biting Bucky’s neck and moving his leg against the hardness, smiling to himself hearing his boyfriend’s involuntary gasp.

“Fuck yes,” breathes Bucky, lifting Steve’s mouth to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit long but there were a number of threads I wanted to tie up. Plus I really wanted to lean in on these two idiots being domestic at Steve’s house. The next chapter will be the epilogue. 
> 
> So in the real world Steve would probably not be offered that job helping to run the Stark Foundation, although it’s not uncommon for private sector CEOs and executives to retire and do just that. But in this world he totally would because he’s Steve Fucking Rogers and he can do anything.
> 
> I kind of lowballed Bucky’s apartment sale price, as most of the Tribeca penthouses I saw on Zillow were like $20-40 million, but I just couldn’t quite go there. Let’s just pretend that it’s a little smaller and not the only top floor apartment in that building. 
> 
> I imagined Shield Corp headquarters to be the Lever Building at 390 Park Avenue; in reality that building has a number of tenants but in this world it’s completely owned by Shield. It’s at 54th and Park, so it would only be 7 or 8 blocks from Grand Central train station.


	12. Epilogue: No Matter How it Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of the afterparty bums him out a little as he walks through the crowd, shaking hands with various people and introducing himself. Steve’s chest gives a quick pang and he wishes he could just head home, change into sweats, and watch baseball on ESPN. But then he realizes why he’s feeling this way - he’s missing a certain someone who hasn’t shown up yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: very brief mention of a past suicide.
> 
> Also cute af contrasting tuxedo jackets.

_**REUTERS** _

Online Edition

April 4, 2020

**Private Equity Partner Found Guilty**

Johann Schmidt, a senior partner in the now-dissolved private equity firm Hydra Advisors, was found guilty today on all charges and could be sentenced to up to 30 years in prison. Charges against him included insider trading, fraud, bribery, and extortion.

This verdict follows the sentencing of senior Hydra partner Arnim Zola last week to 15 years in prison for insider trading and fraud. Zola had taken a plea deal and given testimony against Schmidt and deceased Hydra CEO Alexander Pierce in exchange for a lighter sentence.

Alexander Pierce was being held without bail last fall on charges that included financial crimes and murder when he was found dead in his cell. After a thorough investigation, authorities concluded he had committed suicide by hanging himself...

_**The Wall Street Journal** _

Online Edition

May 28, 2020

By Miriam Gottfried

**Former Shield CFO Sentenced in Last of Hydra Trials**

Brock Rumlow, former CFO of Shield Corp (SHC), was sentenced to life in prison without parole today in New York Superior Court. He was convicted last week on a number of charges, including fraud, insider trading, bribery, extortion, blackmail, intimidation, and assault. Rumlow’s crimes were brought to light during the investigation of defunct private equity firm Hydra Advisors after this firm’s attempted takeover bid for Shield.

Rumlow’s sentence was lengthened after accusations of new crimes surfaced during the Hydra inquiry by US Attorney Preet Bharara. These claims were initially brought by former Shield Finance Director Jasper Sitwell as part of a plea deal that reduced Sitwell’s sentence to 12 years in prison and verified through further investigation...

**Shield Corp Reports Improvement in Second-Quarter Fiscal 2020 Results**

  * Revenues increase 3.5% in local currency to $10.5 billion
  * EPS are $1.21, a 5% increase
  * Operating income increases 6% to $1.2 billion
  * Company declares quarterly cash dividend of $0.55 per share, a 25% increase over equivalent rate in Q2 of 2019
  * Leadership gives positive outlook for remainder of 2020



July 23, 2020 6:44 AM Eastern Daylight Time

NEW YORK—(Business Wire)—Shield Corporation (NYSE: SHC) reported financial results for the second quarter of fiscal 2020, ended June 30, 2020, with revenues of $10.5 billion, an increase of 2.7% in US dollars and 3.5% in local currency over the same period last year.

Diluted earnings per share were $1.21, a 5% increase from the same quarter last year.

Operating income was $1.2 billion, a 6% increase over the same period last year.

Nicholas J. Fury, Shield’s chief executive officer, said, “Shield has come through a challenging and uncertain 2019, and regained financial stability over the last two quarters thanks to an exceptional executive team. We look forward to increasing our dynamic growth while retaining our century-old values of quality, customer service, and innovation...”

*****

_Tony Stark and the Stark Foundation_

_request the honor of your presence_

_at the_

_twenty-fourth Stark Foundation Gala_

_Friday, September 18, 2020_

_8 pm_

_Stark Tower_

_Black Tie_

“Hey Cap! Cap!”

Steve turns around as he hears his name and sees Sam approaching, looking dapper in a classic black tuxedo with a long tie.

“Sam!” Steve calls out over the crowd noise. They meet and hug. “So glad you could make it, my friend.”

“Oh man, I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” says Sam, looking with wonder around the enormous ballroom, filled with hundreds of people. “I mean...look at this place!”

“I know, I know,” Steve says apologetically. “I wanted to make it a little smaller and less over the top, save some money for programs, but Tony insisted.”

“Of course he did,” Sam replies. “Can’t tarnish the reputation of the best party in town, and all this lavish bullshit gets the zillionaires to open their wallets when it’s time to donate.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Steve says with a sigh. He’s enjoying himself - he spent a decent amount of time helping to plan this shindig after all - but this isn’t really his scene and a part of him wishes he were at home, having pizza and beer with just a few friends.

Just then Steve feels a hand on his back. “Hey, is this guy complaining to you about what a great party this is?” the person addresses Sam.

It’s Maria, in a sleeveless navy blue sheath with elaborate ruching at the bust. Her French twist hairdo shows off long diamond and sapphire earrings. In her high heels she’s as tall as Steve and slightly taller than Sam. She looks impossibly glamorous and still also looks like she can drop you to the floor with one move.

“Maria! You look amazing.” Steve leans in and gives her a light kiss on the cheek. He turns to Sam. “You remember Maria, Sam? Maria, my friend Sam from the VA...you met at Nat and Clint’s a couple years ago...”

“Lovely to see you again, Maria,” says Sam in a suave voice. She offers her hand to shake but he leans over and kisses it.

Steve inwardly rolls his eyes and looks a little worriedly at Maria. Will she really put up with Sam’s bullshit? Her eyebrows are high but her eyes are sparkling and she’s smiling so it can’t be that bad. Sam looks up.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks. Maria’s smile broadens to show teeth.

“Sure,” she says, shrugging. As Sam leads her off to the dance floor, she turns to Steve and waves.

Steve chuckles to himself as they disappear into the crowd.

*****

Steve is just about to head off to grab a bourbon at the bar when he hears someone else calling his name above the din.

“Steve! Steverino! Stevie Wonder!” He turns to see Tony Stark coming at him. Tony looks great in a classic tux - he cleans up well - but his tie is already untied, his top button already undone, and it’s only 8.45. He’s double-fisting bourbons and hands one to Steve.

They clink glasses and Tony says, “Here’s to you, Cap.” They take a swig.

“Terrific party, Tony,” Steve says sincerely, looking around. His gaze takes in the giant ceilings, the miles of fairy lights, the balloon arches, the full band playing in the corner near the dance floor, the featured auction items including an actual Audi TT ( _how the fuck did they get that in here?_ ) and a Bugatti ( _ditto?_ ), and the glamorous people everywhere.

“Thanks, my friend,” Tony says, tipping his glass toward Steve. “And thanks for all your work on this. It’s all going to help fund your programs...and I’m really excited about your latest.”

“Me too,” says Steve. The newest Stark Foundation initiative is working with veterans groups and the VA to address the mental health issues of returning soldiers and fund therapies for them. Steve’s been working on setting it up since he started in January.

A bright spot appears in his peripheral vision and he looks up to see Pepper gliding toward them. She’s wearing a strapless white sheath glittering with sequins and a ridiculous emerald and diamond collar with matching earrings.

Steve consciously schools himself not to drop his mouth open and leans in to give Pepper a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Pepper, you look stunning,” he says, looking her up and down with admiration. “Seriously. Like an angel.” He looks at Stark. “I hope you appreciate what you have here, Tony.”

Stark looks at Pepper and then back at Steve.

“Every day, Mr. Rogers,” he says, like it’s a prayer. “Every fucking day.”

Pepper smiles and shakes her head.

“Thank you, Steve,” she says, ever gracious. “The emeralds are a little much, but Harry Winston leant them to me and they’re a big auction donor, so...here we are.”

Steve smiles. “They didn’t offer me any emeralds,” he says, eyes dancing. “Guess I don’t rate.”

Pepper laughs. “Not with Harry Winston,” she says. “But you certainly do with me. Thanks for everything you’ve done with the Foundation so far, Steve. It’s such a gift to have you with us.”

Steve blushes a little and looks down. “Thanks, Pepper,” he says. “It’s really great to be here.”

Pepper looks up past Steve and sighs. “Tony,” she says. “Senator Schumer’s over there with James Gorman and he wants to talk.”

“Ah fuck, OK...” Tony says. He leans forward to Steve and whispers, “Stick around til later, like midnight, for a *really* fun afterparty - just friends, totally informal - upstairs. I’ll come get you.”

“OK awesome, thanks, Tony,” Steve says. Pepper smiles warmly at him and then as they move to walk away her expression automatically shifts to a plastered-on social grin.

“Senator, James...” Steve can just hear her voice before it gets swallowed up by the crowd. A waiter walks by with hors d’oeuvres and he grabs a couple and quickly stuffs them in his mouth. He’s trying to keep some food in his stomach so he doesn’t get too wasted. With this in mind, he hands his half-full bourbon to another waiter. He needs to pace himself, especially if he’s going to stick around for this fabled afterparty.

Thinking of the afterparty bums him out a little as he walks through the crowd, shaking hands with various people and introducing himself. Steve’s chest gives a quick pang and he wishes he could just head home, change into sweats, and watch baseball on ESPN. But then he realizes why he’s feeling this way - he’s missing a certain someone who hasn’t shown up yet.

*****

Steve is standing by the food tables a few minutes later, fueling up to keep up his stamina for a long night, when someone taps him on the shoulder. His heart leaps a little and turns around.

“Hey man!” It’s Clint, looking classy in a dark grey tux jacket. His hair is only slightly mussed and for once he’s not recovering from an injury. Steve swallows his disappointment and gives his friend a big hug. Clint pulls back to look at him.

“Dude, looking good, looking real good,” Clint signs, raking his eyes over Steve appreciatively. And it’s true - Steve’s wearing a velvet tux jacket in slate blue with tailored black trousers. The color of the jacket offsets his dirty blond hair and deepens the blue in his eyes.

Steve colors a little and smiles. “Thanks, Clint,” he says. “Bucky picked it out for me.”

“Of course he did,” says a gravelly voice behind Barton. Out steps Natasha, hair piled on top of her head, in flawless makeup. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black silk dress with a high neckline and no back that provides a perfect backdrop for long ruby and diamond earrings.

“Nat,” says Steve, looking her up and down. “Damn, Nat. Damn.”

Natasha crooks one side of her mouth up at him. Next to her, Clint preens with the praise, clearly ridiculously proud of his girlfriend. Nat looks around.

“Where’s Bucky?” she asks.

“Dunno,” says Steve a little morosely. “I thought he’d be here with you guys. He texted earlier and said you all had to work late.”

“Yeah, but not this late,” says Nat. “We were out of the office an hour and a half ago.”

“Huh,” says Steve, trying not to sound disappointed. But his mouth turns down a bit nonetheless. Nat grabs his hand.

“He’ll be here soon,” she says, reassuring. “I know he wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

It’s been great bringing Bucky into Steve’s friend group. He knew Nat already, of course, and has hit it off well with Clint and Sam. They often get together in Brooklyn and in town for social events and Bucky’s really enjoying working with Nat and Clint at Shield.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says, grabbing her hand tighter. Then he feels her fingers and looks puzzled. Nat never wears rings...did she, too, get a loan from Harry Winston? He brings her hand up and sees...

“Nat!” says Steve in almost a yell. There on her left ring finger is a sizable square-cut ruby flanked with diamonds. He looks disbelieving but happy at both his friends. “Are you guys...?”

Clint’s smile is fit to burst off his face. “She’s making an honest man out of me, Steve,” he says, putting his arm around Nat’s shoulders. Nat rolls her eyes, but she’s beaming too.

“Congratulations, I’m so happy for you two!” Steve kisses Nat’s cheek and gives Clint a huge hug. “When did it happen? I just saw you last week...”

“Over the weekend,” Nat says. “He took me up to Rockefeller State Park for a picnic and proposed next to a stream. It was very romantic.”

“Until I fell in,” says Clint. “But happily I didn’t break anything...and I’d already put the ring on her finger by then.”

Steve grins and looks at Nat, who gives a microscopic shrug as if to say, _Did you expect anything else, Steve?_

“This is great, you guys,” says Steve. “I’m just so psyched for you. Any idea about when the wedding will be?”

“Next summer, probably July,” Nat responds. “Just something simple, here in the city. We’ll fill you in on the details as we make plans...”

“Steve, will you be my best man?” Clint butts in. He is bursting with excitement and clearly can’t wait any longer to ask.

Steve is about to respond but something catches in his throat and he has to pause for a minute to regain his composure.

“Of course, Clint,” he says, and hugs his friend again. “I’d be honored.” Clint pulls back from the hug, looks at him with tears in his eyes, and hugs him again.

“Thanks, Steve, you’re the best,” Clint says, sniffling. As he composes himself, Fury looms up behind him, all in black as usual, followed closely by Darcy, looking stunning in a dark purple corset dress with a full skirt.

“Nick,” says Steve, shaking Fury’s hand warmly. “So good to see you. Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Rogers,” says Fury. “I told you before - party of the year.”

Darcy smiles at Steve and sidles under his arm to give him a sideways hug.

“Lookin good, boss,” she says, glancing up at him with dancing eyes. Steve snorts.

“Uh-uh, Lewis, you’re the boss now,” he retorts. “Are you keeping all these reprobates in line?” His hand gesture takes in Fury, Clint, and Nat standing next to them.

“Of course,” Darcy says cheerfully. “And your boyfriend, too. He really needs the discipline. Doesn’t work hard enough,” she teases. She looks around. “Where is Bucky?”

“I haven’t seen him yet,” says Steve, also looking around. “He didn’t come in with you guys?”

“Nah, he took off after work,” says Darcy. “Said he’d meet us here at the party.”

“Hmm,” says Steve, trying not to look and sound too disappointed. Darcy nudges him from under his arm.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” she says. “Come dance with us!”

“Ennhhh, I’ll be right there,” says Steve. “Just gonna refresh my drink.” He waves his friends away to the dance floor and heads over to the bar, where he orders a club soda with lime.

Standing at the bar, he thinks back to where he was a year ago. It was not a good place, he acknowledges. Dissatisfied with this job, months out of his last serious relationship, pining for someone he never thought he could have. And didn’t really let himself pine for or let go, either.

And then the hostile takeover and Bucky’s reappearance in his life and all that drama. And the totally inappropriate bathroom sex.

He smiles into his drink when he thinks about those stolen moments but then sobers as he remembers the weeks after and the worry for Bucky’s safety. That was also not a good place, he thinks, but it was still preferable to the restless rut he’d been in before. At least he had someone to care about, someone to focus on...someone to love and cherish. 

After a few minutes he saunters over toward the dance floor to watch the dancers but stays out of the line of anyone’s vision to avoid getting asked to dance. To be honest there’s only one person he feels like dancing with and they’re not here. He sighs and takes a sip of club soda when...

“Hey Stevie,” says a soft voice behind his left elbow. Steve doesn’t startle or turn sharply in the direction of the voice; he lets the warmth that pools in his midsection rise through his chest for a second before he turns to see...

_Bucky._

*****

Bucky is standing there, a smile on his face as Steve scans him up and down. He’s wearing a deep burgundy velvet tux jacket with black lapels, bright white shirt, and bow tie. He’s grown his hair out to shoulder length (Fury is indulgent with his new CFO’s quirks, given how good he is at his job), but tonight it’s pulled back in a low bun. His eyes sparkle as he takes Steve in. He looks so beautiful it hurts Steve’s heart a little.

Steve’s smile is a little punch-drunk as he draws Bucky in for a hug.

“You look amazing,” Steve says in his ear. “I missed you.”

“You look amazing too,” says Bucky, pulling back to look over Steve again. An echo of the old cocksure Bucky shadows over his face as he adds, “Thanks to me.” Steve chuckles and shrugs.

“What can I say, my boyfriend’s got taste,” Steve says. Bucky’s crooked smile appears as he grabs Steve’s hand.

“Sorry I was late,” he says. “I had to stop and drop off some things and then shower and change.”

“You went all the way home?” Steve says incredulously.

Yes, that’s right - after months of unsubtle hints from Steve, Bucky finally caved and moved into Steve’s Brooklyn brownstone in May. “I’m only doing this for Cher and Olympia Dukakis,” he warned Steve, but since then he’s started three different interior design projects to, as he says, “spruce up the place.” His wardrobe takes up half the master bedroom closet and most of the guest bedroom closet.

Steve is so besottedly happy that Bucky’s moved in that he’s given Bucky free rein with the decorating. He does, however, continue to resist Bucky’s efforts to get him to start wearing bespoke suits.

Bucky turns a little pink. “Nah,” he says, grinning. “I booked us a suite at the Carlyle for the weekend. I was gonna surprise you with it later, but...surprise.”

“Buck!” exclaims Steve, a little louder than he meant to. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” says Bucky, shrugging. “But you’ve been working so hard lately and I’ll be practically living at the office the next two weeks through the end of the quarter, so I figured we deserved a little vacation.”

Steve grins, says “Thank you,” and leans in for a quick kiss. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Anything for my best guy,” says Bucky. “Looking forward to spoiling you this weekend.”

He looks at the glass in Steve’s other hand. “That’s club soda, isn’t it,” he remarks.

“Uh huh,” says Steve, a little shamefaced. “I was, uh, waiting for you.” Bucky shakes his head, grabs the glass, and deposits it on the tray of a passing server.

“Now you’re not,” Bucky says, and pulls him over to the bar, where he orders them singles of Blanton’s on the rocks. When they get their drinks, Bucky lifts his up for a toast. Steve follows.

“To you, Steve,” says Bucky, clinking Steve’s glass. “My best friend, my love, the best person I know. Thank you, for...for everything.”

Steve gets a little choked up and feels his throat ease as they knock back a swig. Then he lifts up his glass.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world, and every day I’m thankful you came back into my life,” he says, dropping his eyes, long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones. “You make every day better, so here’s to you, Buck.”

He looks up. Bucky’s frowning and his eyes are shiny.

“Look what you made me do,” he says, voice breaking a bit. “Having all these feelings and everything. Fuck you, ya punk.”

Steve smiles.

“Yeah, up yours, ya big fuckin jerk,” he replies. They toss back their drinks and as Steve finishes his, he feels arms go around his waist.

“Love you, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs in his ear.

“I love you too, Buck. So much,” Steve whispers back. His heart is full.

They’re startled out of their embrace a minute later when a couple of loud voices come at them from about five feet away.

“Hey, lovebirds!” shouts Sam. “Less hugging, more dancing!”

“Yeah, come on, you two!” Darcy joins in. “Get over here!”

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “Coming,” he calls. He takes Steve’s hand and leads him toward the dance floor.

As they’re wading through the throng, Steve tells Bucky in a low voice, “Stark tells me there’s a really fun afterparty upstairs after midnight. Very exclusive, just friends.”

Bucky looks at Steve and smiles. “That sounds great,” he says airily in Steve’s ear. “But I think we should keep our options open. There’s an even more exclusive party later on the twelfth floor of the Carlyle. Though ‘fun’ may not be quite the right word for what I’m planning to do to you there.”

Steve’s breath hitches and he feels his face go a little hot.

“I, uh, really like that option,” he growls.

Bucky’s eyes gleam as he squeezes Steve’s hand.

“Thought you might,” he says. They reach the dance floor and join their friends.

_💜 *THE END* 💜_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write! Thanks, everyone, for your kudos and comments, it’s been lovely to hear from you. It’s amazing to find a place where there are people who adore and appreciate these two idiots as much as I do. 
> 
> So in this world there is no coronavirus so of course the justice system would keep moving (though in reality it still wouldn’t move quite as fast as this to convict the bad guys in months), corporations would report decent second-quarter earnings (second quarter is April-June) and it would be fine for hundreds of swank people to crowd together at the Stark Foundation gala. Sigh. 
> 
> No need to completely understand the quarterly earnings press release - basically, these are decent numbers for a company that’s turned itself around after a tough time. Bucky’s good at his job, y’all! No surprises there.
> 
> Chuck Schumer is the senior US senator from New York and James Gorman is the CEO of investment bank Morgan Stanley. 
> 
> Steve’s tux is a nod to Chris Evans’ sterling look at the Oscars in 2019. And you can’t tell me Bucky wouldn’t look ridiculously gorgeous in a deep red. 
> 
> The Carlyle is a swank hotel on the Upper East Side with really nice, big suites and superior concierge service.
> 
> When working on a story I try not to read other similar works, so I don’t subconsciously copy them, but apparently great minds think alike so shout-out to mambo for another great Stucky fic set in the corporate world. <3

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is also the title of a Radiohead song. The chapter titles are lyrics from Radiohead songs, mostly “House of Cards” and “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi.” 
> 
> A hostile takeover is when a company or other entity like a private equity firm makes an offer to buy another company against the wishes of the target’s Board of Directors and management. This can be done through a tender offer (a public announcement to shareholders that the acquirer will buy their shares at a premium) or through a proxy fight (an attempt to acquire enough shares or influence enough shareholders to force the Board to sell). 
> 
> Deloitte Consulting and McKinsey are management consulting firms that work with large companies and organizations to develop their strategy, improve their operations, install new technologies, and more. Private equity firms invest in or buy companies to reorganize them and make them more profitable for their (usually very rich) clients. 
> 
> This fic takes place in a world that intersects with my day job in corporate strategy, and it was so much fun to reimagine Steve and Bucky and the gang as modern-day corporate executives. Feel free to comment with any questions if the narrative or the notes don’t explain stuff well enough.


End file.
